


Estranged

by toryson



Category: Ant-Man (Movies)
Genre: An Unconventional 'Meet the Family' Fic, And a Lot of Russian From Google Translate so Immediate Disclaimer There, F/M, With a Buttload of OCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:31:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toryson/pseuds/toryson
Summary: An unexpected phone call puts Kurt in an uncomfortable position: traveling back to Siberia to meet with his estranged family that he hasn't seen or heard from in years. Jenna accompanies him for moral support and comfort. What follows is a couple of days of discomfort, awkwardness, and figuring out what 'family' means.





	1. Chapter 1

"X-Con Security, we got you covered. How can I help you today?"

Kurt ignored the all-too familiar greeting all of the X-Con salesmen used and instead popped open his desk drawer, fished out a pad of sticky notes, and scribbled the date, time, and location of his next on-site call (he had to make a lot of those - especially for the elderly) on the top one. He peeled the note off and pasted it onto the bottom of his computer so he wouldn't forget it.

Dave, sitting across from him, fiddled with a pen, nimbly twirling it 'round and 'round. The handset of his landline phone was wedged between his shoulder and his ear, and he frowned at something the person on the other line was saying. "What?" He asked, amused - and confused. 

Kurt happened to look up, and met Dave's gaze. He raised a single brow, and Dave shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sorry, ma'am, but I think you've got the wrong number." He made a face, and wrinkled his nose, and Kurt chuckled. "This is a security company, and there's no 'Korach' here."

Kurt froze in his tracks, fingers hovering over his keyboard. His heart seemed to come to an abrasive, screeching halt. His gaze slowly slid away from his computer screen, and affixed to Dave's still-exasperated face. He hadn't heard that name in a very, very, _very_ long time, and he didn't much care for hearing it now.

Dave listened, and shook his head, as if whoever who was talking could see him. "No, ma'am, I told you, there's no one here by that name. Maybe he lived here before we moved in or something, but -"

Kurt rapped a knuckle on the wood of his desk, and Dave looked up. "Transfer," Kurt requested, his voice brusque and, well, curt. 

Dave plucked the phone out of the groove between his shoulder and ear and held it away from him, covering the receiver with his other hand. "What?"

"Transfer," Kurt repeated, well-aware that the expression on his face was one of stony stoicism. "Please, Dave."

Dave, looking bewildered, shrugged. "Sure, man." He held the phone back up to his ear. "Give me one second, ma'am." He punched a few buttons on his landline and gave Kurt a 'go ahead' nod, pairing it with a 'what the hell are you doing' raise of his eyebrows.

Kurt ignored him, and waited for his phone to ring with bated breath. He snatched it up the second it chirruped loudly. Every movement felt mechanical, and stiff, and cautious. He brought the handset to his ear. "Hello," He said warily.

A voice he hadn't heard in two decades - plus a few extra years - chimed in his ear, sounding bright and joyful and sweet. "Korach! _Privet, malen'kiy brat!"_

Kurt leaned back against his seat, one hand gripping the phone, the other resting limply on his thigh. Hearing his sister's voice after so long of static silence was jarring, and disconcerting, and he didn't quite know how to feel. " _Privet_ , Lana," He spoke when he felt that he could. "It has been long time." 

"It has!" Lana's firm, unwavering, chipper confidence reflected in the perkiness of her voice. "Last I heard of you, you were in prison. Folsom, correct?"

Kurt wedged his tongue against his cheek. There was no need for her to ask that - she probably knew where, exactly, he'd been incarcerated, and for how long, and on what charges. She liked throwing things in people's faces, and Kurt didn't want to give her that satisfaction. All he said was: "Yes."

"In any case, I'm glad to hear you've gone legit. You're, what, a security consultant? That's...very ironic, but a good way to put your, uh, 'skill sets' to use."

"Mhm." Kurt grunted - also not wanting to acknowledge that not-so-subtle jab. He felt that uneasy little prickle of being watched, and he looked up from where he'd been staring a hole into his keyboard to see Dave looking at him, looking incredulous, amused, and disbelieving all at once. Kurt dropped his eyes, and wheeled away from his desk, and turned to face the window overlooking the street. "Why are you calling, Lana?" He asked in a low, quiet murmur. 

"Well, that's a rude way to say 'how are you,'" She answered, and snorted light laughter. He could just picture the head shake that'd accompany that spurt of tittering. "I'm good, by the way. Enjoying life in New York - it's very high-energy, and very hectic."

"Good for you," Kurt said bluntly. With her, it was a necessity. "But what do you want?"

Lana huffed an exasperated sigh. "Alright, alright. I guess there's no catching up with you, huh, Korach?"

Kurt said nothing and prickled. He could try and correct her, and tell her he preferred 'Kurt,' but it would be futile. She'd say 'okay' and go right back to calling him Korach seconds later - and the same would happen with Dima. 

"Fine, fine, okay, Grumpy Gus. Well, I just know that you are going to be absolutely delighted to know that Dima and I are here! In the city! We got in this morning - it was a red-eye flight - and had some breakfast, and walked around for awhile -"

Kurt listened, a hand going to his mouth, with dawning apprehension, and something akin to horror mounting in his stomach and knotting it. "Both of you...are here? Why?"

The delight in Lana's voice was sharp and wicked. " _Da!_ Why, do my ears deceive me, or do you sound...unhappy, Korach? I would've thought you'd be positively ecstatic to see us again."

'Ecstatic' was absolutely not the word he would have used. He leaned over in his chair, rubbing at his face now. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and tried to stabilize himself. This whole thing had thrown him completely for a loop, and Kurt did not like being thrown for loops. "Lana," He said, his voice shifting into an even lower timbre, slipping into an almost inaudible mumble. "I know this is not casual visit. We have not seen each other in very long time, and I doubt either of you would go to such efforts as to _fly_ out here on flimsy excuse of 'just because.'"

Silence crackled on the other end of the line, and when Lana spoke again, she'd dropped the act. Her voice was flat, and toneless, and blunt - not sickeningly sweet or syrupy. "Yeah. You're right. We're here because Mama and _Otets_ sent us."

Some of his dread was replaced by a begrudging, reluctant curiosity. "They 'sent' you?"

" _Da._ I guess Nana is not doing well, and they want us all to be there to spend some time with her. You, me, Dima, our cousins, our aunts and uncles, and so on and so forth. The whole Goreshter clan."

Kurt slowly leaned back in his chair and let his head loll backwards so he was staring at the ceiling. He had absolutely no idea how to feel. "So, basically...family reunion."

"Yup," Lana said, and her voice perked up again. "So we're here to drag you back home with us, Korach!"

"Great," Kurt said, and his voice was brusque and clipped, and as he leaned back against his chair and ignored the inquisitive gazes Dave and Scott were shooting his way, and wondered how the hell he was going to survive, and what he was going to do, and how to feel, there was one clear, concise, sharp thought that rose above all the clamor - 

_Blyad._

* * *

"Alright," Jenna said, folding her hands on the plastic white table between them. Her lips were pursed and her brow drawn tight, and concern glittered in her soft, warm brown-green eyes. "Something's definitely got your goat, babe. What's going on?"

Kurt leaned back against the vinyl of the booth and poked at his untouched food with his fork. He'd shot Jenna a text after the conversation with his sister had drawn to an uncomfortable close, and asked her to lunch because he'd needed to get out of the office and away from the curious, intrigued stares of the guys, and he'd very much needed to see her, so here they were, sitting in a local diner they patronized often. He glanced down at his food - even with an appetite, he tended to eat like a bird, but now, with the unpleasant knot in the pit of his stomach, he couldn't imagine taking even a single bite. He set his fork down and looked at Jenna. "Dave got call today," He said wearily. "Thought it was someone who got wrong number, but - it was my sister."

Surprise flashed across Jenna's face, and her eyebrows shot up. "Lana?"

Kurt nodded. "As it turns out, she and my brother came to town this morning - to come get me, and take me back home to Siberia." He thought that over for a minute, and frowned. He had never been one of those people to define words like 'home' in personally meaningful ways, but using the word in that context didn't feel right. He shook his head. "No. Not home. Not anymore. _Here_ ," Kurt said, tapping a finger against the table for emphasis because it was very true, "Is home."

"Wow." Jenna looked as bewildered as he had felt. "That's...quite the surprise. You guys haven't talked to each other - or, hell, seen each other - in years, right?"

Again, Kurt nodded. "Evidently my grandmother is sick, and our parents want family to be there to spend time with her." Which...was surprisingly sentimental, for them, he realized, and the thought came with some biting irony. "The _whole_ family."

Jenna's face crumpled with sympathy, and she reached across the table to touch his hand. He grasped it gently, gratefully, needing and appreciating the soft heat and comfort of her touch. "God, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," Kurt said, "But...I think, at this point, _Babushka_ is looking forward to the sweet release of death."

Jenna's mouth sprung open, and she stared at him, and chuffed out a shocked little laugh. He thought about what he said, and how apt it was for the woman who had always had death on the forefront of her mind (it was morbid, but true - the description was befitting of the 'her' he remembered from a long time ago), but then thought about how weird it was to say that out of context and started chuckling, too.

"It was probably weird to say that, but - true. If you met her, you would understand." Kurt's smile was small and wry. 

"That...would probably help make that sentence a little less...dark," Jenna said, offering him a crooked grin, and it made him chuckle again. She reached her other hand across the table and took his hand in both of hers, and did that thing that she knew calmed him and that he liked very much - she traced over the outlines and details of his hand tattoos with her thumbs. They trailed over the one on the back of his hand, then up to the little ones on his fingers, then back down again. 

The motion - and sensation - soothed him. He curled his fingers through hers and gave her a gentle, appreciative squeeze.

"How do you feel about it?" Jenna queried, eyebrows knitting together again. They'd talked - extensively - about his family, and she knew that he was closer to Dave and Luis and Scott than he was to his own mother and father and siblings. 

Kurt thought about that for a moment, and frowned again, because expressing himself was tricky, and putting a finger on that complicated, nasty tangle of feelings in his chest and gut was...damned difficult. He looked at her, and her eyes that were kind and gentle and sweet, and felt her fingers intertwined through his, and knew that though communicating and hashing through emotion was difficult for him, being with her made it more manageable, and gave him more strength to believe that he could actually do it. "I...don't know," He blurted. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was the truth. "It is going to be...very weird. I do have some cousins I would enjoy seeing again, so I am looking forward to that, but otherwise it is probably going to be hours of..." Hours of what? Everyone sitting clustered around a dining table and eating silently? Everyone sitting in the living room watching TV silently? His sister being her usual self - disarmingly charming but with a whole lot of her unique brand of snark on her tongue, and his brother being his usual stoic self, breaking his own pragmatism to indulge in whatever nonsense Lana would undoubtedly convince him to partake in, and maintaining that haughty air of judgment? "Weirdness," Kurt finished lamely. 

"Well, if you need a break from all of that unpleasantness," Jenna said solemnly. "Don't hesitate to use me as an excuse. You can just shoot me a quick text, and I'll call you, and you can claim some kind of...girlfriend-related emergency or something." She stopped rubbing his hands and folded her fingers over them, and leaned over the table to emphasize her point, her eyes boring into his. "Seriously."

Her offer, and the solemnity with which she posed it, made him smile, and for just a second took a little bit of the crushing pressure off of his shoulders - and comforted him. He studied her face for a moment, and a thought - brief, and quick, and fleeting - fluttered into his head than just as quickly darted out, prompted by his own mental shoving. He didn't want to drag her into anything that would certainly be awkward and potentially unpleasant. 

Jenna, however, could read him like a book. "What?" She asked, tipping her head to the side, narrowing her eyes, a hint of an inquisitive smile playing at her lips. "What're you thinking, Goreshter?"

Kurt hesitated, then started to answer truthfully - "I was thinking..." But then his courage puttered out, and he looked back down at his mess of food, and shook his head. "Nevermind."

"You know you can't say that to me," Jenna said seriously and earnestly. "Because now I'm never going to be able to let it go, and I will absolutely pester the shit out of you until you tell me."

Kurt's gaze bounced back up to meet hers, and she looked incredibly stoic. He couldn't help the slow, warm smile that dawned across his face - he very well knew that what she'd said was true, and loved her for it. "Okay," He said. "I just had quick thought about...you coming with me." The words came tumbling quickly, almost nervously, out of his mouth. "And there is no pressure, it was just thought, but -"

"Kurt?"

Kurt looked up. Jenna was flashing him a soft, gentle smile - one of those sweet smiles that made his heart light up. "Yes, I'll go."

And, again, that weight that had settled deep into his chest ever since Lana had called lightened. "Really?' 

Jenna's smile broke into a sunny grin, and she laughed. "Don't sound so surprised," She teased lightheartedly. "You're the one who offered."

Kurt laughed - a breathy, relieved kind of chuckle. "Right. Well -" His smile was big, and unabashed. He didn't know how to thank her, because her coming - her being there, with him - well, it meant a lot. "Thank you." It didn't feel like enough, and for a moment he cursed himself for his inability to articulate himself the exact way he wanted. 

Jenna squeezed his hand, and he looked at her. She smiled softly. "No problem."

"Disclaimer, though," Kurt said before he could get too caught up in looking at her, though his breath had hitched and it took him a second before he could speak. "It is...probably, definitely not going to be normal 'meet the parents' kind of thing."

Jenna nodded, unperturbed and unfazed. "Figured as much. And, hey, I can totally just be, you know, a subtle shadow in the background or whatever -"

"Can you?" Kurt asked with a playfully skeptical lilt in his voice and teasing gleam in his eye because Jenna Leigh was anything but subtle.

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." She softened. "My point, though, is I want to be there for you, however I can - however you need or want me." She paused, then added, struggling to bite back a goofy grin - "You need me to put Dima or Lana in a chokehold? I'll absolutely do it."

Kurt laughed at that. "That is good to know, but I don't think chokeholds will be necessary." He paused, then smiled crookedly. "But I will definitely let you know if that changes."

Jenna's serious charade fractured and she laughed a bright, sunny laugh. "Sweet."

"Chokeholds aside...thank you, Jenna Leigh." He looked at the sweet, sincere smile she shot him in return, and felt his heart shift and swell in his chest - and then an epiphany struck him like a bolt of lightning. There was one more thing he had to tell her. 

She raised an eyebrow, seeing the way his face flickered. "What's up?"

"There is one more thing that is probably important for you to know." He made a face. He hadn't told her yet because it hadn't felt relevant, but now that he was actually going to say it, he realized that, yes, he probably should have told his girlfriend of six months his full name. He'd been going by 'Kurt' for so long that it felt natural, and he did prefer it. Still, though, she would be hearing it a lot, and it would be better to provide an explanation beforehand. He knew he was overthinking this whole thing - there was definitely no doubt about that - but...still. "My name is not actually Kurt." 

Jenna laughed, but when she realized that he was serious, it tapered off. She looked - intrigued. And startled. "What?"

"Only reason I say that is because when we go, everyone there is going to be calling me by my full name - at least until I ask them to use 'Kurt.' But Lana and Dima..." He shook his head. "Will never agree to that." 

Jenna looked like she didn't know what she thought, and she leaned back against her booth. "Okay," She said, one eyebrow raised. "Then, pray tell, what is your actual name?" 

Kurt fiddled with the ring on one of his fingers. The tone of her voice was light, but her face was inscrutable - which was unsettling. She was never inscrutable. It worried him. He finally looked back up at her and answered with a sigh. "Korach."

Now both of her eyebrows shot up - and her face cleared. "Korach," She repeated, testing it out on her tongue. "Korach. Huh. That's interesting." She thought about it for some more, then tsk'ed. "I gotta be honest, though - you look way more like a Kurt."

Kurt grinned. God, he loved her. "I would like to think so." 

"And, since we're currently on this whole 'real-slash-full name' business," Jenna said, leaning back, spreading her hands in a flippant 'here we go' gesture. "I should probably tell you mine."

"What?" Now it was Kurt's turn to be startled. 

She fetched a solemn, heavy sigh. "This is...a lot, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but..." She tossed her hands up and let them fall onto the table with a loud thump. "My real name - is Matthew."

"What? What are you talking abo-" Kurt, befuddled, was in the middle of asking what in the world was going on when it hit him. He saw the little gleeful grin wriggling across her face and how she bit her lip and he shook his head, feeling his own smile appear. "Very funny, Jenna. Very, very funny. Matthew Perry. I get it. Guy from FRIENDS."

"Correction," Jenna said impishly, teasing him. "There are a lot of guys on FRIENDS. That guy is the one who plays Chandler." 

Kurt sat back in his seat and watched her and the expression on her face - that way-too-happy-with-herself grin, paired with that lip bite, and the flush in her cheeks, and loved her. "Right." He glanced at his watch, and his smile fell. "We should probably get going. Have to go back to work." He slid out of the booth, and offered her his hand.

She smiled up at him and took it. "Yeah," She said. "That's probably important."

They walked out of the diner hand-in-hand, and as they emerged into the day, and took their sweet time ambling back towards the X-Con office, Kurt looked down at her. She was walking with a chipper smile on her face, occasionally swinging his hand, and when she felt his gaze on her, she turned her head up to look at him. "What?" She asked, grinning. "You've been awfully stare-y today, Kurt. Or - excuse me - Korach."

Kurt gave her a look. 

Jenna shot him a cheeky grin and aimed a playful elbow against his side. "I will always respect your wish and right to go by whatever name you want to go by, but...I also intend to get a lot of mileage outta this."

"I would have been concerned if that wasn't the case," Kurt admitted, and laughed when she laughed, and let go of her hand - so he could sling an arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him and gently bumped her head against his shoulder. 

They stopped in front of the X-Con building. He looked up at the decal pasted on the window, but then Jenna tapped his chest and recaptured his attention. "You didn't answer my question."

"Wha - oh." He looked at her, one hand sliding down her back to the small of her waist. "How would you feel about going out to dinner tonight?"

"Hmm, let me think about that - yes." Jenna grinned. "That sounds really nice."

"And slight amendment to that question," Kurt said, and grimaced. "How...would you feel about going out to dinner with my brother and my sister tonight?"

"Oh." Jenna considered, then raised a brow. "You got roped into that?"

Kurt nodded forlornly. "We have to talk 'logistics.'"

Jenna gave his hand a squeeze. "Yeah, sure thing. I'll tag along. It should be...interesting." She paused, then drew an arm across her body and tapped her elbow playfully with her other hand. "I'll get that chokehold ready."

That made Kurt laugh, and he appreciated that enormously. Being with her let him forget the whole doom-and-gloom feeling rumbling like a thunderous storm cloud in his gut. He kissed her temple. "Thank you. I will see you tonight, after work."

"See you then." She stepped close, and tipped her head up, and gave him a light peck. "Have a good rest of your day. And, hey -" She pulled back, and looked up at him, and her face was warm with sincerity. "Everything's gonna be alright."

Kurt nodded. He was starting to believe that maybe, that just might be true. 

"Ooh, one another thing." Jenna looked up at him, and smiled eagerly and excitedly. "Does going to dinner with your brother and sister tonight mean I might hear you speak Russian?"

Kurt thought about it. Lana had been living in the States for awhile, and her accent was subtle, and her English nearly flawless. Dima, on the other hand, had stayed in Russia, only bouncing from place to place and province to province, so he didn't know if he'd picked up any English. "Probably, yes. Why?" He asked curiously.

"Because it's very hot," Jenna blurted.

Kurt laughed at that, even though warmth came rushing into his face. "Jenna."

"What?" She shrugged guilelessly. "It's the truth. And it's just...I dunno. Really cool, too. It's hot AND cool."

Kurt chuckled warmly and shook his head - but gave her a sly, cheeky smile. " _Yesli vy dumayete, chto zarko, to mne pridetsya delat' eto chashche."_

Jenna tugged at the collar of her shirt. "Ooh, Kurt, you better calm down with that." She flashed him a cheeky grin. "What'd you say?"

"That if you think it is hot, I will have to do it more often." 

"Please feel free," Jenna said and laughed and he just smiled and moved to kiss her forehead but she tipped her head up and his lips brushed against hers. She slid her hands down his chest - then reluctantly pulled away. "Okay," She said reluctantly. "Enough prolonging the inevitable. I'll see you tonight."

Kurt nodded, and tucked his hands in his pockets. "See you tonight."

She flashed him a smile. "Bye."

Kurt chuckled. "Bye." 

And, with that, Jenna turned and disappeared in the throng of pedestrians - she turned once, and tipped him a wave, then wheeled back around - and Kurt remained standing on the sidewalk for a few moments more.

Eventually, he turned and moved to duck back into the building to head back to the office and spend the next few hours mentally preparing himself, and the feeling persisting in his gut told him that, beginning with dinner that night, the next couple of days were going to be very, _very_ long. 

He exhaled deeply, and sat back down at his desk, and rebooted his computer, and got to work. 


	2. Chapter 2

"I do not think I have ever dreaded anything this much in my whole life." Kurt, sprawled out on his back on Jenna's bed with his legs dangling off of the edge, stared up at the ceiling, his eyes carefully tracing the movement of the slowly spinning paddles of the overhead fan. His hands were folded neatly and primly over his stomach, and one of his thumbs tapped restlessly against a ring on the opposite hand. "Even being processed into prison was not this bad."

Jenna, in the middle of getting dressed, paused on her way to her closet to give his thigh a loving, reassuring pat. "Let's just tackle this thing one step at a time, babe," She suggested. "All you have to do tonight is dinner. That’s it. And that takes - what, an hour, an hour and a half, at most?”

Kurt fetched an enormous, heavy sigh. "Yes, but, with them, it will feel like eternity." He wasn't usually such an outwardly pessimistic person - hell, he wasn't usually an outwardly expressive person, in general, but he was working on that - but it felt warranted. And it relieved a little bit of that taut pressure making his chest feel unpleasantly tight.

Jenna sat down next to him, her hand rubbing soothing, comforting little circles on his thigh. "The good thing about time," She said, "Is that no matter how quickly or slowly it seems to be passing by, it's still objective. Dinner tonight might feel like an eternity, but it'll really only be sixty - or ninety - minutes. That doesn't sound so bad, right?"

Kurt tipped his head to the side and looked at her, meeting her gentle hazel eyes, and knew she was right. After a brief lull of silence, he acquiesced: "Yeah. I think I can handle that." Sixty to ninety minutes. Yeah. He could do that. He might keep an eye on his watch the whole time, but - still. 

Jenna pulled him out of his tentatively optimistic reverie by flashing him a sunny smile. "And, hey, afterwards, we can swing by that fro-yo place you like, and come back here, and throw on _Blue_ _Hawaii,_ 'cause I know that's a Patented Kurt Cure for the Blues. How's that sound?"

Kurt chuckled at that and nodded. "Great," He admitted, because that all sounded absolutely fantastic. He unfolded his hands, planted them on the bed, and shoved himself upright. He put his hand over Jenna's and curled his fingers over hers. "You are right, though. I just have to push through."

"That's the spirit," Jenna encouraged, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. She gave his leg one final pat before rising and moving to her closet to fish for a shirt. "I don't have to wear anything fancy, do I?"

"Not at all." Kurt knew how she felt about 'fancy.' "Definitely do not feel the need to go to that length for them." He watched as she hummed affirmation and began to pull shirts out, scrutinize them, and slip them haphazardly back onto the rack. He clasped his hands loosely together and thought that while the promise of frozen yogurt and one of his favorite movies helped to quell some of the anxiety needling at his gut, nothing soothed him and eased some of that pressing weight on his chest more than being able to enjoy those things with her. He rose from his seat on the edge of her bed and approached her and when she turned to get his opinion on whether or not she should go with a v-neck or a crew neck and saw him, she raised a curious eyebrow, but before she could say anything he cupped her face in his hands and craned it gently upwards so he could kiss her.

She made that soft, throaty humming sound that never failed to make him shivery when his lips pressed to hers, and leaned into him and the kiss, dropping the shirt she'd been currently eyeballing in favor of resting her hands gently on his chest. 

Kurt broke the smooch a few seconds later, and pulled away, and looked at her. Her flushed face and that broad giddy grin she wore made his heart throb. “Not that I’m complaining one bit,” She said, her smile crooked and sunny and flustered, “But what was that for?”

For the second time that day, Kurt had difficulty putting into words what, exactly, he wanted to say. He wanted to thank her for coming with him to dinner, and to Siberia, because her being there made dealing with his family, which had been a whole boulder of stress and anxiety resting on his chest, way more manageable. Her being with him gave him the strength to believe he could actually do it, he could survive the experience, and the gravity of that was not lost on him. But the words simply would not come. “I just -” He tried, but felt his tongue twist up, and he made a face and shook his head. “I love you,” He said instead because that encompassed pretty much everything he was feeling at the moment.

Jenna smiled sweetly up at him, and he saw, by the way she was looking at him, that she had a good understanding of what he had wanted to say. Her eyes were soft, and her smile was incredibly tender. “Well, I just love you, too,” She returned teasingly. She closed the gap between them again and rose onto her tiptoes to press another soft kiss to his lips. Her hands slid down his chest and gravitated towards his arms, where they skittered down to his hands. His fingers instinctively tangled through hers. “And, for the record,” Jenna said once she pulled away, “You’ve been handling this so spectacularly. This might be weird to say, but I don’t care.” She spoke brazenly. “I’m proud of you.”

It wasn’t weird; it was incredibly sweet. In fact, it made his breath catch. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, Jenna Leigh.”

She squeezed his hands lightly, and flashed him a wide, earnest grin. “Of course, Kurt. Now, unless you think I should go to dinner like this, I should probably get dressed.” She wore nothing but a nice pair of dark jeans and one of her comfier bras. She scooped up the shirt she’d dropped when Kurt had surprised her with that kiss and held it up against her chest. She looked down to eye it, then glanced back up at Kurt and raised a brow. “What do you think? Yay or nay?”

It was a dark teal v-neck shirt. “Yay,” Kurt said after only a second of deliberation because he thought she looked beautiful in about everything, especially that shirt - because it was her favorite color.

“Cool.” She smiled brightly, then shrugged it on, and tugged her hair out from where it had gotten wedged under the loose collar. She patted herself down, smoothing out some of the wrinkles, then struck a pose, spreading her hands out and grinning at him. “Ta-da?”

Kurt couldn’t help his grin (he’d been doing so much more of that since he had met her). “Ta-da,” He repeated, before gently thumbing up her chin so he could kiss her again. It was a sweet, lingering smooch. “You look beautiful,” He murmured.

Color - pleased, flustered color - came surging into her cheeks. “Thank you,” She said, then flashed him a cheeky grin and paired it with a wink. “So do you.”

Kurt laughed because, for one, she was an absolute dork, and he loved her dearly for that, but also she had this way of lightening and brightening things and, given the circumstances, it was something he direly needed. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her close, hugging her, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

Jenna’s hands fluttered in the air for a second before they slid around him and gave him a playful squeeze as her head came to rest against his shoulder.

They stayed that way, not speaking and instead relishing in the quiet comfort of their embrace, for quite some time.

* * *

Kurt inhaled deeply as he and Jenna passed through the door of a local Italian joint hand-in-hand. The place smelled richly of garlic and fresh-baked bread, and was dimly lit (every table came equipped with a candle), and the rich cocoa-brown walls were adorned with faux vines that snaked around the paintings of the Italian villas and countrysides and shops. From the host podium, the restaurant was split into two - to the left was the bar, and to the right was a larger dining floor, filled with booths and tables with fancy tableclothes and high-backed, ornate chairs. It was fancy, but the color of the walls, and the glow of the candles, and the wonderfully appetizing smell made it cozy.

And yet Kurt was anything but comfortable.

Jenna whistled a soft, appreciative tune as she looked around, but then she saw Kurt, and registered the look on his face, and gave his hand a steadying, comforting, anchoring squeeze. "Are they here already?" She queried. 

"Probably," Kurt returned in a low murmur, feeling tension surge into his shoulders and chest and back. Dima was always punctual, if not early. They wouldn't be in the bar, so he only gave it the most perfunctory of glances before studying the dining room, his gaze moving almost sluggishly, and definitely reluctantly, and then he saw them.

They were sitting at a table set squarely in the middle of the room. 

Kurt saw them for the first time in twenty plus years and felt a reluctant kind of shock zip through him. They were sitting next to each other, two Goreshters with the notably dark eyes and prominent nose they all shared. Lana was tall, and broad-shouldered, with a husky, bulky build. Her hair, thick and black and streaked with gray, tumbled around her shoulders. She wore a white scarf, and a gray cardigan over a black blouse with thin white stripes, and jeans tucked into calf-high black boots. Dima was shorter than both Lana and Kurt, with rounder shoulders, and an average, unremarkable square build, and ruffled, spiky black hair cut short to his scalp. He wore a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark beige chino pants that ended an inch or two above his black loafers.

Lana happened to look up, and spotted him, and her eyes sharpened. She rose from her seat with a confident, somehow blunt, grace, and lifted a hand. " _Privet_ , Korach!" She called. 

"Oh, god," Kurt muttered under his breath, which was quick and anxious. "Here we go."

He and Jenna walked to the table. Lana remained standing and, when they approached, rounded the table and snagged Kurt into an awkward, stiff hug. He only stood there, still holding onto Jenna's hand, his jaw tight. "It's been too long, Korach!" She pulled back, and took note of his hair, and smirked. "Nice 'do you have there, brother. Very spiffy."

"Thank you," Kurt muttered even though he very well knew she was being facetious. 

Lana turned to Jenna, and brightened. "And who's this spunky little _rypka_?"

Jenna's befuddled, puzzled gaze flicked briefly to Kurt - he only made a face - and then she grinned at Lana. It was an open, cordial smile. "I'm Jenna. And I'm guessing you must be the famous Lana I've heard a little bit about." She extended the hand not holding Kurt's.

Lana smirked and took Jenna's hand in both of hers. "'Infamous,' is probably more like it." She winked lasciviously. "It's a pleasure." She dropped Jenna's hand and looked over at Dima, who remained sitting, his craggy face stoic and unmoving. She spoke quick, smooth Russian: "Dima, _this is_ Jenna, _his girlfriend_." She glanced over at Kurt and smiled slyly at him. "Unless there's something I'm missing. A _kol'tso_ , perhaps?"

Kurt looked at Dima, not wanting to indulge Lana the satisfaction of poking at him. "Yes. This is Jenna. My girlfriend. Jenna, my brother, Dima."

Dima rose from his seat and offered a hand, which Jenna shook. He gave her a brusque nod, and she returned a smile, and once the cursory introductions had been made, they all settled back down into their chairs. 

"So," Lana said, interlacing her fingers together on the table. "I think we should take care of business first before catching up. How's that sound?"

Dima nodded, as did Kurt, and for a moment he felt a wave of memory wash over him. It hadn't even been ten minutes, and they had already slipped back into the dynamic of their youth - Lana being the leader and the silver-tongued motormouth, and Dima following suit because she had persuaded him to, and Kurt being the silent third party dealing with the brunt of their collaboration. He thought about that and only pseudo-listened as Lana began to launch into her spiel about the trip. A waitress interrupted her, stopping by to deposit a basket of bread and pitcher of water, and pledging to return to take their orders in just a few minutes. 

"...whole day of travel," Lana was saying when Kurt reluctantly tuned back in. "Our first flight leaves at seven a.m., is twelve hours long, and is followed by a layover in..." She double-checked the paper itinerary she'd slipped out of her pocket. "Beijing, where we'll able to get some rest, then our next flight is only three hours or so, and it lands in Vladivostok. From there, we hop on a bus, and thirty minutes later, we're home!" 

_Home,_ Kurt thought dourly but did his best to suppress that sharp, biting pessimism. "You already bought tickets?"

"Yes," Lana affirmed. "And we got you covered, too. Consider it a present for the last ten or fifteen birthdays we've missed." She grinned. 

"Thank you," Kurt said dryly, tone dripping with sarcasm. "But I will need the flight information. We have to buy one more ticket." He said this last bit begrudgingly, knowing Lana would latch onto it, and pry at it because that was what she liked to do and it was also what she did best, but luckily he was saved by the waitress swooping back in to snatch up their orders.

Once the waitress left, Lana propped her elbows on the table and turned her attention to Jenna. "I'm assuming the extra ticket is for you."

Jenna nodded, grinning, and soon they were chatting up a storm. Kurt watched and listened and thought their chumminess was good, but Lana was laying it on thick, practically oozing cordiality and amicability. The effort she was putting in was a little worrisome. 

"Korach," Dima said suddenly, and Kurt dragged his attention away from Lana and Jenna's conversation and looked towards his older brother, who was smearing a bit of butter on a chunk of bread. " _Do you really think it is wise to bring her home? Can you even afford a thousand-dollar plane ticket?_ " He didn't look up from his bread-buttering as he launched a volley of quick, fluent Russian.

Kurt immediately bristled. Lana was subtler - snakier - in her ways, but Dima was upfront and unapologetic about his snobbery. " _Yes, I do,"_ Kurt returned, the words sharp and cold. " _And my finances are none of your business. I am fine."_ Even if he wasn't, Dima would be the last person he'd tell - but he really, sincerely was okay. X-Con was busier than ever and swarming with customers and clients - that, and he was frugal. He saved and saved and saved and spent only when necessary. 

_"If you're certain."_ Dima shrugged and popped his buttered bread into his mouth and met Kurt's gaze, his face slack and eyes lax and uncaring. 

" _I am,"_ Kurt returned bluntly and tersely.

Dima shrugged again, and they fell into silence - their usual. 

The relief Kurt felt when the waitress showed up with their plates was monumental, and he dove right in to escape having to converse any more with either Dima or Lana. He'd just gotten a salad, because his appetite had been less than substantial and he hadn't thought he would be able to stomach anything, but he scarfed it down feverishly now. 

Luckily, everyone else seemed to share his passion for gulping down their meals, and the only sounds at the table were the clinking and scraping of knives and forks against ceramic plates and ice rattling around in glass cups. 

Kurt polished off his salad, and shot a not-so-subtle glance at his watch. He remembered what Jenna had said about time and did his best to focus on the fact that, yes, it was objective, and they were nearing the forty-five minute mark, and that was absolutely a good sign because -

"What's the rush, Korach?"

His head snapped up and he saw Lana, sitting back in her seat, hands folded over her stomach. She smiled, and in that smile he saw her acknowledgment of his discomfort. "Got a hot date?" She teased. 

"No, but I do want to get good night's sleep tonight to prepare for tomorrow." Their first flight was an early, not to mention lengthy, one, and Kurt was a man who preferred to be safe rather than sorry, so he wanted to show up at the airport at least an hour before take-off time. Plus, there was the drive to the airport itself to consider. Thinking about the itinerary made a sudden thought of worry blossom in his brain, and he looked at Jenna with a concerned frown on his face. "Do you think tonight is too late to buy ticket?" He hadn't taken into consideration the incredibly narrow time frame, given how abruptly the trip had been thrust onto him. 

Jenna grimaced and considered. "I don't know. Hopefully not. It is last minute, though, so I don't think I'll be able to snag a seat next to you."

Kurt frowned at that, but Lana swooped in. "Easy solution to that. Korach, Dima, and I are all in the same row - I'll give you my seat, Jenna, and take whatever one is assigned to the ticket you buy." She smiled.

Kurt eyed her. "That is...generous," He said warily because she never did anything without some kind of ulterior motive. The thought was thick and heavy with cynicism, and he was well-aware that that had been his state of mind the entire evening, but it was difficult, if not downright impossible, to not be suspicious. 

Lana laughed. "No big deal. I like sitting next to strangers on planes. You hear all kinds of interesting stories that way..." She paused, then added with a crooked grin, "Or 'shut the hell up' in different accents and languages." 

Jenna snorted laughter at that. "Makes sense." Her chuckles tapered off, and she set her fork down on her plate, and smiled warmly at Lana. "Thank you for doing that, though. I appreciate it."

Lana waved her off. " _Pozhaluysta_. I'm fairly certain Korach would much prefer spending those twelve hours with you rather than deal with both of us." She gestured to Dima, and when he looked at her, repeated what she had said in Russian - and Dima gave a sharp bark of a laugh and nodded in agreement. 

"Very true," Kurt muttered under his breath, and then he saw the waitress approaching with a leather-bound check presenter in hand and felt a relief unlike anything he'd ever known come pulsating through his system. He sat back in his seat, and smiled, because the dinner he'd been dreading was finally coming to a close.

Everything seemed to move by quickly as soon as the waitress set the check on the table. Dima snagged it up before either Lana or Kurt could reach for it, flipped it open, grunted, and fished for his wallet so he could pluck out a credit card and tuck it in the small rectangular binder and close it. Kurt took the opportunity to throw a few bills on the table for tip.

The group stood, and collectively shuffled towards the front of the restaurant, and Kurt found his steps growing lighter and lighter by the minute. They lingered to say goodbye - Lana yanked Jenna into an abrupt hug, and clapped Kurt on the shoulder, and smiled, and told him she'd see him tomorrow (Kurt only grunted in response) - and as soon as Dima had finished paying, they exited the restaurant, exchanged a few more cursory parting words, and then went their separate ways. 

* * *

"Well, that was...interesting," Jenna said as she scooped a dollop of frozen yogurt onto her pink plastic spoon and popped it into her mouth.

She and Kurt were sitting at a small, round metal table under a pink-and-white umbrella on the sidewalk in front of the mom-and-pop fro-yo shop Kurt liked. He had his own paper-coated-in-plastic cup clasped in one hand, and the other was curled around his spoon, poking at the mess of sprinkles he'd adorned his vanilla bean yogurt with. "'Interesting' is one word for it." 

"But, hey, you survived." Jenna grinned and held up her frozen yogurt. "To having made it out of that restaurant alive."

Kurt chuckled and held his frozen yogurt up, too, and they rapped their cups together gently. "Could not have done it without you."

"Thank you, babe, but that was all you. I just tagged along for moral support. And to chat up your sister, apparently." Jenna set her cup down. "Who, by the way, is, uh...quite the character. She was really sweet, and funny, and incredibly charming."

"Do not fall for it," Kurt said immediately, then sighed and relaxed back against his seat. Maybe he was being a touch unfair, but - he knew how she was. "That is one thing about Dima that is somewhat decent - you can tell when he is being a dick." As soon as he said it, he shook his head and chuckled. 

Jenna laughed right with him, but then something seemed to strike her and she straightened in her chair. "Oh! Before we stop talking about your siblings because god knows we're going to be spending enough time with them the next few days, I gotta ask - there were a few things that your sister said that I didn't quite get. I understood the 'hello' part, but -" She paused, and frowned, fishing through her memory. "There was - oh, yeah, she called me a 'spunky little _rypka._ What in the world does that mean?"

Kurt sighed and gave his yogurt an aggressive poke as he shook his head. "The exact, literal translation is 'little fish.'"

Jenna sat back in her seat, bewildered - an amused grin dancing across her face. "So your sister called me a spunky little fish." 

"Yes," Kurt answered, and chuckled. "It is term of endearment, though. She is very fond of those, so be on lookout for more."

"Noted. I'll bring a notebook with me and keep track." Jenna spooned more yogurt into her mouth. "Oh, and she mentioned something else, too. I can't remember the word, but it started with a 'k' - she said it when she was introducing me to Dima."

Kurt very well remembered, and now that he was out of sight of his sister who'd notice every single tiny detail, he didn't bother stifling his blush. "A _kol'tso_ is a ring. She introduced you as my girlfriend, but asked if...there was ring missing that would indicate us being married."

"I have absolutely no idea why she'd think that, 'cause clearly we're just a casual fling," Jenna said solemnly - then tipped him a cheeky wink. 

Kurt chuckled. "Clearly," He said, playing along as if he hadn't spent the last six months being in love with her. 

They finished their yogurt in comfy, cozy silence, and Jenna leaned back in her chair and hummed contentedly. She gave Kurt a broad grin and raised her eyebrows. " _Blue Hawaii_ time?"

Kurt looked at her for a minute - at the cheesy waggle of her brows, and her goofy and enthusiastic smile - and smiled a sweet, earnest smile. " _Blue Hawaii_ time," He affirmed.

They rose, chucked their bowls and spoons in the trash, and left the shop, heading down the street side-by-side.

When Kurt's hand brushed against hers, he interlaced their fingers together, and she looked up at him and grinned and he couldn't resist kissing her temple.

They walked home holding hands and smiling. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: implied sexy stuff at the beginning of this chap.

Kurt’s alarm chirruped at thirty minutes to five in the morning, and his eyes sluggishly slid open during the second round of beeps and chimes. He stared blearily up at the ceiling as his mind slowly stirred awake, then he looked over at Jenna - she who was sprawled on her back on her side of the bed, her hair a messy tangled halo around her face, her eyes shut and lips parted and a snore rumbling through said lips. One of her legs was draped over his, and he managed a sleepy smile at that. 

And then he remembered what had him waking up at four-thirty, and his smile dropped. He exhaled - a long, deep, heavy puff of air - and clapped his hands to his face and let himself wallow in pessimism for a moment more before shoving it aside.

 _It is not going to be all bad,_ he told himself. _Cousins will be there. I like them. And I will be able to see Matushka, too._ The one member of his family that he missed the most was his mother. That thought helped quell the lingering traces of pessimism that clung like the remnants of a sticky cobweb. 

Feeling somewhat better, Kurt dropped his hands and rolled onto his side and looked at Jenna and thought about the fact that she would be there with him, too, every step of the way, and felt his heart lighten further. “Jenna,” He said lightly. 

She didn’t stir.

Kurt puffed a soft, amused sigh. “Jenna,” He repeated, raising his voice, and extending a hand to brush a lock of warm brown hair off of her cheek. She only hummed throatily - sleepily - and turned her face against his hand. He chuckled, because he should’ve known - the whole day of traveling was going to be a walk in the park compared to waking Jenna, she who consistently risked being late for work by sleeping in until the very last moment and having to whirl around the apartment and get ready in a frenzied blur, up at such an ungodly hour of the morning. He looked at her peaceful, slumbering face turned towards him, and an idea sprouted in his mind. He didn’t bother biting back his smile and instead shifted closer to her so he could kiss her forehead and say her name again.

Her head lolled to the other side and she muttered an incoherent grunt - which was perfect, because she’d exposed the smooth curve of her jaw to him, which he kissed. “Jenna,” He murmured her name in a light singsong as he moved down to the stretch of her neck. 

“Hmm,” Jenna grunted, finally beginning to shift and move. 

Kurt grinned, and propped himself up on his elbow, and scooted back so he could trail his kisses from her neck to her collarbone (she slept naked most nights, so there was no clothing to be encumbered by). “Time to wake up,” He said, lips barely grazing the firm jutting ridge of skin. 

Jenna made a sound not unlike that of a grumpy bear being stirred out of hibernation and muttered “Go ‘way.” 

Kurt chuckled light laughter. “I am not going anywhere. It’s time to get up.”

Jenna’s head rolled to the other side and she peeled one reluctant, sleep-bleared eye open. “Gimme one good reason why I should get up.” Her voice was heavy and slurred.

Kurt smiled. “I will give you more than one. First,” He said as he shifted so he was on top of her, propping his elbows against the mattress so he could hover an inch or so above her body. “We need to be at airport early because our flight leaves at seven, and it takes at least thirty minutes to get there.”

Jenna only grumbled. 

Kurt pressed a kiss to her sternum. “Second, I know you can get ready fast, but we should leave as soon as possible because once we are at airport, and once we are on flight, you can sleep all you want.” 

Both of Jenna’s eyes flipped open and she looked at him. She still wasn’t fully awake yet - he could see the gears in her head turning and the hazy fog in her eyes slowly lifting - but the grin she gave him was clear and excited. “Keep talkin’,” She requested, her voice a low, throaty hum.

“Third,” Kurt said, moving past the vertical bridge of bone to that soft square of flesh directly underneath and just below her breasts, “Once we are at airport, we have nothing to worry about beyond getting on flight. We can get good breakfast,” He offered, then flashed her a seductive smile before planting a soft, light kiss on her stomach, right above her navel. “Doughnuts, probably.” 

“Mmm,” Jenna hummed and lifted a hand to run it through Kurt’s fluffy, disheveled mane. “That sounds nice.”

“Doughnuts,” Kurt reiterated, and moved lower. His lips lingered on the plane of skin between her hips. “With side of bacon. And apple juice.” He knew what she liked. 

“You make a very compelling argument - oh!” Her voice sharpened and her breath hitched because Kurt had gone lower still, to a far more interesting (and far more sensitive) spot on her bod - and suddenly Jenna was very, _very_ awake. 

* * *

An hour later, they strolled through the wide, open, airy spaces of SFO, armed with their rolling luggage, and juggling, in Jenna’s case, a white frosted sprinkle doughnut and a small clear bottle of apple juice (she’d eaten the side of bacon Kurt had promised her almost the second she’d gotten it, burning her mouth in her hungry haste but not caring one bit), and a glazed doughnut and cup of coffee in Kurt’s case. Jenna, looking every bit the weary morning traveler, was dressed down in flip-flops, gray sweats, and a navy blue jacket, and Kurt wore his usual loafers, and jeans, but had opted to keep his usual layering to a minimum and was just wearing one of his polyester shirts with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Comfort was a necessity, after all - especially given the traveling they had in store.

They’d tied up any and all of their loose ends the night prior - they’d allowed themselves a few hours to decompress by cuddling up on the couch and watching _Blue Hawaii,_ but then had forced themselves into their room to sort and pack their things. Once that arduous chore had been finished and their suitcases zipped up and bulging, they’d gone online, and bought Jenna a ticket with the flight info Lana had texted Kurt. He’d kept his phone at hand so he could shoot Luis a text - he’d chalked up an impressive number of sick days, and would be calling them in for the trip. After that - they’d both toppled into bed, tired and spent from the night of dreadful chores, and had promptly fallen asleep.

Now they ambled through the enormous, pristinely clean and dazzlingly (almost painfully so) white airport, the steady rolling of their luggage wheels following the slap of their footsteps against the smooth white-and-gray checkered linoleum flooring. 

“Oh,” Kurt said, interrupting their silence. “There it is.” The sign sticking from the wall pronouncing a sectioned lounge as the waiting and boarding spot for Gate E was incredibly prominent, and unmissable. And, sure enough, being eyesores amidst the people scattered and snoozing in their chairs or staring tiredly off into nothingness, stood Lana and Dima.

Lana looked bright and cheerful. Her hair was thrown up in a bun, and the silver jewelry glittering around her neck and on her fingers caught and threw the bright fluorescent lights overhead in a sharp twinkle. She wore comfy black leggings, and a long-sleeved white blouse, under which a black tank top was clearly visible. Dima looked less like he had just hopped out of the pages of a fashion magazine and wore dark jeans and a zipped-up gray hoodie. Lana flashed them a brilliant beam, and raised her hand in greeting.

“Oh my god,” Jenna muttered under her breath as they slowly approached. “How the hell does she look so - so _happy_ this early in the morning?”

“Well,” Kurt breathed back to her. “I do not think she sleeps. Or eats. At this point, I am almost convinced she is vampire.” 

Jenna chortled and choked on the sip of apple juice she'd just taken, but waved off Kurt’s look of concern, and then -

They were at the lounge.

Lana grinned and unabashedly tugged Jenna into a hug as Kurt and Dima exchanged cordial nods. “Good morning, _nevestka_!” 

“Morning, Lana,” Jenna said, and Kurt stifled a smile because he could hear her trying to sound perky and upbeat, but exhaustion and early morning grumpiness plagued her tone nonetheless. She turned to Dima when Lana finally released her and aimed a smile in his direction. “Morning, Dima.”

He nodded brusquely at her, then, deeming the trivialities complete, dropped down into his seat and fished around in a carry-on backpack for a minute or so before plucking out an impressively dense book. He opened it and disappeared into the text.

Lana eyed their doughnuts and drinks with amusement sparkling in her dark eyes. “I see you guys got yourselves a real hearty breakfast.”

Kurt nudged his luggage against an empty chair and slung his duffel bag off of his shoulder, dumping it into the seat itself, following Jenna’s suit - she who had already plopped her stuff on the floor and climbed into a chair, legs folded under her as she dove eagerly into her frosted pastry. “Yep,” was all he said as he took the empty seat on her other side.

Lana dropped down next to Dima and folded one leg primly over the other and looked at Kurt as he took a swig of his scalding, richly-flavored coffee. “So, Korach, are you excited?”

Kurt didn’t hesitate. “Excited to sleep on flight? Yes.” He could already feel his hackles beginning to rise. What was she expecting him to say? They had had very different experiences growing up in their home, and he wasn’t going to defer to her judgment - not anymore. He’d done it for too many years, because trying to stand up to her had felt utterly futile - she was persistent, and stubborn, and charming, to boot, so arguing with her or debating her point of view had been an exhausting, draining experience. He wasn’t going to let her walk all over him like that anymore, damn it.

Lana’s bright smile flickered and for a moment an expression of genuine frustration crinkled her brow and quirked her lips downwards, and she quickly spoke in clipped, curt Russian. “ _What is_ **_wrong_ ** _with you? You’re going home for the first time in_ **_years,_ ** _and you’re acting like you’re being dragged down death row - by your perfectly coiffed hair.”_

Kurt’s head snapped up and he glowered at her. “ _Maybe I am not as enthusiastic as you because we both have different ideas of what ‘home’ was like, and mine have not aged well, and I am not looking forward to going back there and re-experiencing unpleasant memories. Have you considered that?”_ His response was instant - sharp - and he raised a single eyebrow at her.

She stared at him, face wiped clean - plain - inexpressive. She said nothing, and they only stared at each other for a few moments, and the air between them rippled with unpleasant, uncomfortable tension. Then she broke it by turning her attention to Jenna, and suddenly that sunny expression had turned her face from a slab of craggy, unmoving stone to a warm, friendly, open ray of sunshine. "So, Jenna, what seat am I going to be stealing?" 

Jenna looked at Kurt, and her puzzled, concerned gaze searched his face, but he gently touched her thigh and shook his head. It wasn't worth getting into. His brief moment of quick, sharp anger had ebbed, and since she had let it go, so would he. He didn't want to waste time or energy arguing what he had experienced with Lana, who had a particular penchant for being controlling on top of everything else. Jenna's gaze slid to Lana, and she quickly hunted around for her ticket, found it, and rattled off the aisle and seat number. Lana smiled, and nodded, and told her that she'd have a good twelve hours flying with her delightful brothers, and that she hoped she lucked out and would be sitting next to someone cute - or a good conversationalist.

Kurt tuned out. He washed his doughnut down with hot coffee, and absently looked towards the windowed wall that afforded a view of the planes that were being loaded and unloaded, and of the ones that were cruising down the runway, either taxiing to or from the airport. His eyes bounced from aircraft to aircraft until Lana saying his name recaptured his attention, and he looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She asked pleasantly.

Kurt considered, tongue in cheek, knowing that an argument was brewing on the horizon, but also knowing that that was the biting pessimism speaking again, and he wanted to stamp that out, so he nodded, and rose from his seat, and he and Lana left the lounge to go stand by the water fountain next to the Gate F waiting area. "Look," She said, in crisp English. "The whole reason for this trip is to go see _Babushka_. I know we haven't always gotten along -" Kurt snorted at that, but she shot him a pointed look, and he lifted a placative hand in lieu of a verbal apology. "But us fighting the whole time? Is not going to make this a pleasant visit for her. Or anyone else, as a matter of fact." She leaned against the wall and folded her arms over her chest and looked at him bluntly - no games, no tricks, no subtle manipulation; just bland honesty. 

"Okay," Kurt agreed, because it was true. "But you trying to force the way you feel about going home on me - is not going to help matters any." 

Lana listened, and acquiesced with a tilt of her head. "Alright. That's fair. I don't understand why you're treating this whole thing like you're getting your teeth pulled -"

"And I have zero obligation to explain it to you," Kurt returned quickly.

Lana huffed an exasperated breath, but when he looked at her, because he wanted to make sure that point was driven home. She'd already emphasized the way he was treating the trip twice, and he knew the warning signs of her beginning to dig at something. "Okay. Yes. You're right about that. Fine. Let's just...make a compromise. I'll stop trying to figure out what's wrong with you and judging you for it -"

Kurt rolled his eyes at the not-so-subtle poisonous jab. 

"And, in return, maybe you could be...less porcupine-y about the whole thing. We should table all this weirdness about home and you and me and Dima for another time - a more appropriate one - and put it aside for the sake of _Babushka."_ Lana unfolded her arms so she could thrust her hand out at him, offered him a winning smile. "Deal?"

Kurt studied her face and found nothing but earnestness, and looked down at her hand, and felt that reluctance and distrust that had been mounting since he was a kid well up, but...he found the strength to push that aside. As she'd said - for the sake of their grandmother. He could do that much. He knew what he felt was valid, and he certainly wasn't going to try and stamp it all out, but what she was asking for...was surprisingly and relatively reasonable. He took her hand, and shook it, and hoped he wasn't going to regret making this particular pact. "Deal."

* * *

They boarded the plane at six-forty, and the plane, amazingly punctual, left at seven on the dot. Kurt and Jenna settled into their seats next to Dima - Jenna had the window, which she eagerly peered through all throughout their take-off - and prepared for the next twelve hours.

Their flight from San Francisco International Airport to Beijing Capital International Airport was, all things considered, alright. Kurt was able to nab three or four extra hours of sleep - with his head tilted back against his seat and his hand curled loosely around Jenna's on the armrest. Jenna herself slumbered for a full eight and a half hours, as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the night prior, but Kurt was glad for that. At the quarter mark, there was a particularly bad bout of turbulence, and it didn't bother Kurt, but Jenna didn't fly much for the specific reason of turbulence making her queasy beyond belief, so her not having to deal with that relieved him. 

(Dima just sat reading his book, stoic and unmoving.) 

Their flight landed in Beijing at seven-twenty p.m. California time, but the local clock read a fifteen hour difference, so the discrepancy was incredibly jarring. They all had slept on the flight, so Kurt and Jenna spent their overnight layover exploring the airport (they couldn't venture out into the city lest they want to go through security again) while Lana and Dima claimed prime spots at their next gate. 

The time moved painfully slowly - crept by at the pace of a snail trying to traverse quicksand - but eventually they hopped onto their final flight. After a lot of exhausting, disorienting hours, both Kurt and Jenna were spent, and both of them spent the entirety of the shorter flight snoozing away. 

The jolt of the plane touching the ground stirred Kurt out of sleep, and he peered past Jenna sleeping on his shoulder through the window to see the crisp, bright blue sky peppered with thick white cloud tufts, and the glamorous, sprawling cityscape of the port city of Vladivostok. He stared - and didn't feel apprehensive, or reluctant, bu in awe. For a few minutes, everything he'd been dreading washed away - all he could feel was his admiration for the beauty of his home country. He hadn't anticipated feeling this good, and maybe it was a premature feeling, but he enjoyed it nonetheless, and as he looked out over the city, his heart swelled and he smiled.

He didn't realize Jenna had woken up until he felt her gaze on him. She looked at him and smiled softly and squeezed his hand and then looked out of the window and gasped. "Holy shit." 

"Yeah," Kurt said, and felt okay about the whole thing for the first time since he'd gotten Lana's call (he'd had several flip-floppy lapses between 'okay' and 'plagued with incessant dread,' but this - this was a cement, steady kind of feeling), and squeezed her hand and smiled and looked out over Vladivostok. "Holy shit." 


	4. Chapter 4

_All things considered,_ Kurt thought while he was sitting next to Jenna on a public transit bus that rumbled and grumbled and rattled down the street and stank of smoke and gas, _it is good to be back._

Nostalgia washed over him in powerful waves as they cruised through the streets of Vladivostok. He was reminded of the sporadic trips to the city his father would take, and how, on occasion, he would accompany him, because they had come and gone on these very same big green buses. Thinking of those visits turned his mind to the rinky-dink souvenir shop Kurt had always wound up at, no matter what, while his father puttered around running errands (stocking up on food, going to the laundromat, so on and so forth). The store had specialized in American memorabilia, and it had been his favorite place in the whole world. He'd loved every bit of it, from the flickering fluorescent lights that made the shop owner grumble and curse and stomp over to the light switch panel to hammer her fist against it as if that would solve all of her electrical engineering problems, to the almost overwhelmingly powerful and cloying - not to mention eclectic - intermingling scents of bubblegum and alcohol that the shop reeked of, to the veritable smorgasbord of trinkets and toys and records and cassette tapes (to later be replaced by DVDs and CDs) and posters and souvenirs and toys it housed. He remembered spending hours there, pawing through the goodies, and how much he yearned to go back whenever he and his father returned home, and how much time he spent wondering when the next trip would be. 

Kurt looked to his right, through the window on the opposite aisle, and watched the storefronts blur by. He wondered if the store was still there, tucked neatly at the very end of Svetlanskaya Street, and made a mental note to check, because it had been far too long, and it would be nice to -

He was yanked out of his thoughts by a loud, abrasive squeak - the sound of moving weight on the chintzy plastic bus chairs - and Lana, sitting in front of them, twisted around in her seat, propped her elbows on the headrest, and flashed Jenna a dazzling grin. "So, _rypka,_ you ever been to our neck of the woods before?"

Jenna laughed and shook her head. "No. This is my first time out of the country, actually."

Lana's dark eyes lit up with a brilliant, enthusiastic sparkle. "Sweet! Then I'll designate myself as your tour guide and give you all the gory details about...everything!"

Jenna's gaze flitted to Kurt and he read the pleading 'help me' in them. He did his best to stifle a chuckle and instead curled his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. He lifted his shoulders in a barely perceptible, hapless, 'what can you do?' gesture. Lana reveled in having an audience, and now that she'd sunken her hooks into Jenna, she wasn't liable to let go anytime soon - she thrived off of the attention.

Kurt listened as she launched into a spiel about Vladivostok, telling Jenna about the massive nuclear-powered ice breaker ships that would sail through and break up the dense, thick layers of ice that would frost the waters of the _Zolotoy Rog_ ("Otherwise known as the Golden Horn Bay to the uninformed," Lana added, and tipped Jenna a cheeky, glib wink and Kurt resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to roll his eyes) solid. She talked a little bit about the environment and weather, but only briefly - with the sleek smoothness of a timeshare saleswoman, she started rattling off, rather extensively, the many, many things to do there. Romantic strolls through the botanical gardens or along the shores of one of their notable beaches, eyeballing sharks at the Primorsky Aquarium, looking at the animals confined to land at the Primorye Safari Park, and bracing themselves for some spooks while perusing the catacombs were just a few of the options.

Kurt, amused by the fact that Lana was being a walking-talking guide book, looked over at Jenna. The dull, flat plea for help in her eyes had died - and he knew why. Knowing her, she had probably anticipated some kind of convoluted history lesson, so receiving a plethora of info about all of the potential - not to mention entertaining - activities must have been delightful. As a matter of fact, she was taking in everything Lana was telling her with eager eyes and a little awed grin playing at her lips. She alternated between nodding and looking at Lana and peering out of the window at the cityscape cluttered with tall, sleek buildings and the land itself, which was nearly carved in two by the thick, rippling bay waters.

Kurt smiled at the expression on her face, and sat back in his seat, his fingers still entangled with hers. He tuned out midway through Lana's enthusiastic speech and followed Jenna's occasional glance through the window, looking out over the bay as the bus zipped over the curved crest of the Zolotoy Bridge. A considerable number of boats - catamarans, yachts, sailboats, and a great number of fishing vessels, to name a few - streamed through the water, fanning out great big frothy, foamy rooster tails in their wake, and he smiled. 

That feeling he had gotten when he'd seen Vladivostok for the first time in twenty years while they had still been in the air strengthened tenfold and swelled in his chest. It was a major breath of fresh air from the anxiety and dread that had been suffocating him and had felt like a physical thing bogging him down. It was true that spending so much time with Lana and Dima would be uncomfortable, and being home would force him to confront the unpleasant memories that had made him so reluctant to come back in the first place, but - being here, on this particular bus, with Jenna, and watching those boats go to and from the docks (some loaded to the brim with crates of seafood, and Kurt's stomach got nostalgic remembering the best shrimp he had ever eaten), reassured him.

 _Everything is going to be fine,_ Kurt thought - and believed it. He looked over at Jenna, who returned his gaze with an unabashed, huge, wide-mouthed grin and enthused about the catacombs because holy shit they seemed like something out of a horror movie, and she would absolutely be down to go traipsing through them, time and opportunity permitting, but also the aquarium sounded pretty cool and the city square where there were a bunch of shops and an evidently beautiful fountain, as per Lana's testimony, would be neat to explore - and he felt a grin of his own dance across his face.

Yeah. Everything was going to be just fine. 

* * *

A half an hour (and some change) later, the bus pulled up to a rickety bus stop with nothing more than an equally rickety steel pole jutting out of the gravelly ground with a bus stop sign slapped hastily on top of it. Lana sprung out of her seat nearly the second the bus screeched to a halt and almost toppled over Dima and into the aisle face-first (" _Watch it_!" He snapped, and she returned a swear so vulgar that Kurt grimaced), but she recovered smoothly, and regained her poise, and chirruped "Home sweet home!" before adjusting her carry-on pack and whisking away towards the front of the bus.

"Someone's excited," Jenna observed quietly in Kurt's ear, and he chuckled.

"Too excited," He amended, and rose, and stretched briefly. His stiff, aching joints popped and his equally uncomfortable muscles unfurled, and he sighed in relief. He stooped to grab his duffel bag out from where he'd stowed it underneath Dima's seat, and slung the strap over his shoulder. He turned to Jenna, who was rising from her own seat and shrugging on her backpack, and offered her his hand. She grinned and took it. 

"You ready for this, Goreshter?" She asked as she stepped into the aisle with him - the closeness of the seats squished them together, but neither minded - and her voice was teasing, but her gentle gaze searched his face carefully.

He considered for a moment, then smiled down at her. "Ready as I will ever be," He answered, then bent to steal a quick kiss - nothing more than a soft graze of his lips against hers. She leaned into it, and smiled against him, and when the kiss broke he chuckled and they pulled apart and nodded at each other - then moved to descend down the stairs, and exit the bus, and step out onto gravel. 

The first thing that Kurt noted - possibly because he had spent so much time cooped up in airports and airplanes and buses, where pleasant fragrances were few and far between - was the _air._ It was sweet, and fresh, and earthy, and wet - they must've just missed a recent bout of rain - and he inhaled deeply, almost gulping it down, as it washed over him and cooled his skin and filled him with a new, electric, organic sort of energy.

They stood on the side of a claustrophobically thin road that meandered away through gently rolling, curving slopes and hills - an enormous, rippling plain that stretched out as far as the eye could see, and at the very edge of vision stood a dense forest that encircled the open area, closing it in and making it seem like a misshapen clay bowl. Houses - rustic forest cottages in varying shades of gray, brown, black, and beige - dotted both sides of the road, but were spaced apart at considerable distances, and some were blockaded by fences - clearly indicative of privacy being a major selling point in this particular community. 

Kurt stood on the side of the road and took it all in and drank in all of the green - clearly the past winter season hadn't been especially cruel - and the open, lolling space, and inhaled deeply because not only could he smell the petrichor wafting up from the grass, but the grass itself, and the soil, and it was absolutely _wonderful_. 

The bus driver hauled their suitcases out from the built-in storage compartment, grunted in acknowledgment when Lana thanked him, then disappeared back up the steps and into his vehicle, which went puttering away down the impossibly thin string of a road - leaving them alone.

"Alright, Dima, Korach, and _detka sestrenka,"_ Lana announced, turning and giving them all a broad grin. "Let's get this party started." She pointed towards a dark cabin parked right by the road - almost squatting directly on top of it. "See that spiffy little place over there, Jenna? That is _dom_ Goreshter _."_

Both Jenna and Kurt looked at the house. Kurt saw the walls painted a rich, warm brown, and the trimmings on the steps leading up to the porch and the eaves and window frames that were a faded, chipping white, and the sharply pointed roof itself that was a sun-baked, darker, almost black, hue but missing a couple of shingles, and it was immediately familiar. The layout of the house came snapping back to him in an instant - it was nothing more than a square, with two bedrooms separated by a bathroom on one side, a master bedroom set at the furthest end at the back, and a joint dining room and kitchen and living room on the other side. The left window bracing one side of the front door offered a view into one of the bedrooms (the one that had been his, actually), and the right window showcased the living room. He could picture the smooth, varnished wooden floors (colored that weird shade of streaky yellow-brown), and the walls that were cluttered not with pictures but general knickknacks and decor, and the mismatching furniture (the dining room table with chairs of varying height and color and shape and type, and the wildly colored and oddly patterned living room sofa).

Jenna touched his arm, jarring him out of his eerily near-perfect recall. "You alright?"

Lana and Dima had already set off towards the house at a brisk pace, leaving Jenna and Kurt standing by the bus stop sign. "Yes," He affirmed, and nodded. The clarity of the mental image had had him reeling, but otherwise, he was still feeling decent. "Are you?"

Jenna grinned and bumped his shoulder gently with her head. "Absolutely. We're gonna soldier through this together, Captain."

Kurt chuckled and took the opportunity to kiss the top of her head, but then a thought - quick and flighty - danced into his head and he grimaced. "Quick warning," He said, and she looked up at him with a quirked brow. "My family may not be very open or sentimental, but they are...nosy. And by extension of that...embarrassing. Do you get my drift?"

"Yeah," Jenna said with a light laugh. "I do. They're gonna be asking about marriage and babies and stuff like that, right?"

Kurt nodded, still making a face. "That does not...freak you out?"

She squeezed his hand. "Nope," She said, popping her lips on the 'p.' "I'm usually the embarrassing one, and I've noticed that it's kind of difficult to embarrass the embarrasser. That's one of the few perks, I guess. What about you? Are you gonna be okay with that?"

Kurt nodded - then fetched a sigh. "I wish they would not pry, but that...is not going to happen," He said dryly. 

Jenna just rested her head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand. "We can handle a couple of days' worth of embarrassing questions, right?" 

"Right," Kurt sighed.

"Then let's do this." She lifted her head and gave him an affirming grin and encouraging nod. 

Kurt chuckled at that. "Let's do it." 

The walk down the road and up the minuscule path and steps and to the front door did not take long, but Kurt and Jenna's little conversation had held them up, and when they got there, the door was open, and Lana and Dima's bags and suitcases were shoved in a pile against the wall. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, the delectably warm scent of cookies either still in the oven or just having been taken out and put on a cookie tray to cool assaulted both of their senses.

"Wow," Jenna breathed and her stomach rumbled to accentuate her point.

Kurt nodded, and felt himself grinning. This was what he had been waiting for - those cookies were the trademark of his mother. She'd always make him a special batch whenever he was having his bad days - when school sucked, or when Lana and/or Dima were being particularly brutal, or when he was in his room and trying to practice the Art of Stoicism as his father had always emphasized - and those cookies were her comfort. She wouldn't hug him, or offer him a barrage of kind words, but rather just use the smell of the baked goodies to lure him out of his room and just give him a plate and smile and - that was all he'd needed. Someone had cared about him enough to make him cookies that were especially AND just for him! 

Kurt resisted the urge to let his inner child come swimming to the surface and instead focused on setting his bags down in the hallway, next to his siblings', and Jenna followed suit. 

"Is it just me, or does it smell like the best bakery in the world in here?" Jenna murmured when they were stowing their stuff away.

Kurt laughed. "Not just you. My mother likes to bake, and cookies are her specialty." He pointed towards the kitchen, which was set behind the living room, and partitioned not by a door but a colorful tapestry hanging in the archway. A steady stream of eager Russian and the shuffling of footsteps and the clatter of chairs being dragged against the wooden floor emanated from behind the dazzling fabric. "I will bet that we will spend most of our time in there."

Jenna grinned. "If that means getting to enjoy the stuff that's making that unbelievable smell, then I'm more than happy with that."

Kurt rumbled laughter, and was about to say something else when he heard someone shuffling down the hall - but the gait wasn't recognizable. It was a heavy, stomping shuffle - then a normal step - then that somehow metallic clunk again - and Kurt turned, befuddled, and saw his father emerge from the hall that led down to the master bedroom.

Leon Goreshter was a tall, broad man (who had clearly given Dima his genes), with a head of thick, disheveled hair that was no longer black-with-gray but gray-with-black, a square face, dark brown eyes, that prominent Goreshter nose, and a soft jaw that wore a good growth of salt-and-pepper stubble. He wore a plain white t-shirt - spotted with grease stains that refused to be washed away and ripped at the cuffs - and jeans, and his left leg was encased, from foot to hip, in a big, burly, black metal brace. He stared at Kurt for a moment, and Kurt smiled awkwardly, not really knowing what to expect or whether or not he should break the awkward silence, but then his father came lurching towards him and before he could say or do anything, he was wrapped in a firm, tight embrace. 

Kurt only stood there, hands floating awkwardly, all of his alarms clanging wildly. His dad - the man who had preached not showing weakness - was...hugging him? Where had that hug been when Kurt had been five and his favorite stray cat that frequented the Goreshter property had died and he had been broken up about it for days? Where had that hug been when Dima and Lana had taunted him to the point of tears on Halloween night by threatening to feed him to Baba Yaga and sneaking outside to rap on his window with a branch and scare the wits out of him? All of that - and more - came rushing back and for a moment his hands lowered but then they rose and he awkwardly gave his father's shoulders a pat.

Leon seemed to remember himself, let Kurt go, stepped back, and cleared his throat, but Kurt spoke before his father could. " _Who are you and what have you done with my father?_ " He hoped it came across as a joke - though something serious wavered in it. 

" _Your mother has been working me down for years,"_ Leon said, and shook his broad head - but that secretive, special little smile he adopted whenever he spoke of her appeared. It flickered out quickly, though. " _It is good to see you, Korach."_

Kurt nodded, not knowing what to say - not knowing quite yet whether or not it was good to see him, too. Instead, he put a hand on the small of Jenna's back - she who had been standing there and shuffling her feet awkwardly - and smiled down at her. "Jenna, this is my father, Leon. _Dad, this is_ Jenna."

Jenna heard her name and offered Leon a grin. "Hi. I would say 'it's nice to meet you' in Russian but, I only know a few words. None of which are a part of that phrase. So, uh - it's nice to meet you." She offered her hand.

Leon shook it briskly - brusquely - and nodded, then looked at Kurt after he dropped it. " _Your wife_?"

" _Girlfriend_ ," Kurt corrected. He had developing future plans to put 'fiancé' on the table, but definitely had no intention of spilling the beans on that particular subject. 

"Ah." Lean looked at Jenna again and nodded. "Nice meet you." 

Kurt got right to the point. " _Where is everyone_?" Minus the kitchen, the house seemed empty and quiet. 

" _Babushka is resting in our room."_ Leon jerked his head back towards the master bedroom. " _Nadia and Alexander are coming tomorrow. Nadine took the boys to the city to get some groceries for dinner tonight. Everyone else..."_ He trailed off, and pointed towards the kitchen, then apparently deemed the conversation over - Kurt thought the way he clipped it off neatly was very much a sign that his dad was one and the same as the dad from his childhood, no matter the fact that he apparently started doling out hugs - and limped into the living room to drop down into the shoddily upholstered recliner seated next to the sofa. 

"And that," Kurt murmured to Jenna, "Is my father." 

"He's very...." Jenna trailed off, and thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I...don't know."

"Perfect way to describe him," Kurt said in a low mutter and then, with his hand snaking back down to hers, they headed towards the kitchen, rounding the couch and passing through the vibrant tapestry and into a kitchen rich with warm buttery yellow light and the incredibly powerful scent of cookies and full of chatter.

Dima leaned against the counter with his hands in his pockets, watching as his mother knelt to pop open the oven and pull out the cookies and plunge a toothpick into the heart of one, then as she shook her head and clicked her tongue and slid the tray back in and closed the door and stood up straight again. Lana was sitting at the dining table, nursing a soda.

Kurt met his mother's gaze when she straightened and the way her slim, narrow, angular face lit up made the awkwardness from the interaction with his father recede to the back of his mind. His mother was a tall, bony woman - all angles - and her face looked severe, with thin eyebrows and small dark eyes and long hair pulled back into an intricate braid and dyed a rich black, and she wore an apron on top of her slacks and strawberry red blouse (but barefoot - as was her preference). " _Korach_!" She said, and strode across the room to envelop him in a tight hug.

Now this hug Kurt didn't mind, or find weird. He returned it - but then she pulled back, and put her hands on his shoulders, and looked at him. " _You're so...grown up,"_ She said, and her beam was radiant with pride. 

_"Yeah, I heard prison will do that to you,"_ Lana piped up, giving him a grin. 

He ignored her - as did his mother - and he also ignored the fist bump she gave Dima. _"It has been awhile."_

Anastasia Goreshter smiled, and gave his cheek a pat, then dropped her hands - and spotted Jenna. "Hi," She said in English, her accent thicker than Kurt's. 

"Hi," Jenna returned, offering her a grin and introducing herself. "I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess you're Kur-uh, Korach's mom."

Anastasia smiled and dipped her head and mock-bowed. "That would be me." 

"Figured as much, 'cause I can really see where he got his good looks from," Jenna said earnestly, and when he looked at her, she tipped him a wink. 

Anastasia laughed at that. "I would like to think that I did good job with these kids." She dusted her hands absently on her apron, then seemed to remember something and turned to snatch one of the many bowls off of the counter, and offered it to Jenna. It was stuffed with powdery, puffy round pastries. "Try tea cake," She suggested. 

"Don't mind if I do!" Jenna grinned, and plucked one from the bunch, and popped it into her mouth - and promptly groaned. " _Wow._ That's...so good. It's so - warm, and buttery, and the walnut is good without being super overpowering -"

Anastasia's face lit up. "You have good taste." She pointed a spoon at her. "I am going to monopolize you as my taste tester."

"I would love that," Jenna said, and her grin grew, and she looked up at Kurt with excitement lighting up her face - an enthusiasm that said 'your mom likes me!' with a million exclamation marks accompanying it, and he grinned back at her in response. 

Then his mom beckoned for Jenna to come to the counter and try some of her experimental batter and Jenna obliged eagerly, and he watched them (and selectively ignored Lana occasionally making smart-ass, snide remarks), and grinned. And then Jenna looked over her shoulder, a dab of batter on her lower lip, and mouthed, ' _I love your mom'_ and Kurt felt his heart swell and his unabashed, warm smile widened. 

_So far,_ he thought with relative optimism, _so good._


	5. Chapter 5

The shack that sat a few yards away from the rear end of the main Goreshter house was short and squat and made of meticulously-sanded-and-varnished yellow cedar that, when the sunlight struck the log walls, adopted a translucent, syrupy yellow-brown glow. The gentle breeze ruffling Kurt and Jenna's hair and tugged at their clothing also sent bits and pieces of straw from the thatched gable roof swirling and dancing about in the air like little golden motes, and the two glassless windows bracketing the beige sliding barn door flapped their rich brown curtains enthusiastically. 

They headed towards the small guest house with their bags slung over their shoulders and their suitcases in tow, bumping and bopping over the dense, earthy grass of the steppe. 

Jenna whistled appreciatively as they approached the front door. "Wow. It's beautiful."

Kurt, eyes still roving over the structure, nodded. The house behind him bore many memories that made it heavy and daunting, but the shack - it was new, and fresh, and untouched by any of the snapshots of his past that still made his chest grow pinched and tight and turned his heart into an uncomfortably hot and twisted lump of pained muscle. The shack was warm, and light, and open, and inviting, and, for that, Kurt thought it was very beautiful indeed.

They entered the shack through the barn door that rattled pleasantly back on its track when Kurt grasped the vertical metal bar serving as a handle and tugged - and walked into a small, perfectly square room. 

The floor was smooth, varnished wood stained a deep, russet brown, and the walls were a grainy, splintery sandy hue, untouched by paint or clear coating of any caliber. A considerable queen bed was pressed up against the back wall, the foot of it only a few steps from where Kurt and Jenna stood on the threshold. Tucked next to the head of the bed, on the right side, was a cozy white nightstand, on which perched a bedside lamp with a thin, flimsy, pale pink umbrella shade. And crowding in next to the nightstand and taking up an enormous amount of space and making the room seem to shrink was a behemoth of a dresser - a bulky, lumbering, gray thing, clearly home-made gauging by the uneven drawers and the way it seemed to list to one side. 

Jenna nudged her suitcase against the front wall and dropped her backpack in front of it. "Well, your mom was definitely right - it's real cozy in here." She took the few steps from the door to the queen bed, dropping down onto the white sheets with the pink trim and the plethora of pink roses stitched onto it. Metal springs squeaked raucously in surprise. "Well, that's going to make the nights interesting," Jenna remarked with a growing grin, bouncing on the mattress a couple of times and waggling her eyebrows lasciviously at Kurt as the squeaky springs seconded her insinuative sentiment. 

Kurt chuckled and set his bags next to hers - he was in no mood to unpack - and drew the door shut before moving to go sit by her. The bed frame groaned under his additional weight. He paid the noise no mind and instead set a hand on her upper thigh - he had some thoughts he wanted to share. Thoughts he'd shared a few times before, but that he felt the need to reiterate. "I hope things have not been too uncomfortable for you so far," He said, his smile fading and a concerned frown taking its place. 

Jenna rested a hand on top of his and gave his fingers a light squeeze. "Not at all. Your mom and her delicious food have helped a lot." She smiled lightheartedly. 

Kurt knew, despite the teasing lilt of her tone, that her answer was genuine, and it eased his worried nerves. His responding chuckle was breathy with relief. "Okay, good. I did not want to drag you into anything that would make you feel...bad. Or weird." 

Jenna nodded. "And I appreciate that, but also, something to keep in mind, is that I volunteered to come with you." She lifted his hand from her leg so she could entangle her fingers properly through his, and align her palm to his. "'Cause I wanted to. You didn't 'drag' me into anything." She spoke earnestly and sincerely, and punctuated the end of that sentence with a sweet, brief kiss to his cheek - high-up, right on one of his relatively prominent cheekbones. "And, y'know," She pulled away and offered him a wry, crooked grin. "I just so happen to love you very much and want to be here for you." She pulled away, her eyes studying his that were studying her, and her face softened - gone was her jesting. "I know how tough family shit can be, and I didn't want you to have to face it alone."

Kurt looked at Jenna - at the open, honest expression of firm genuineness way in which she regarded him and how her eyes - those hazel eyes he loved because in the light they were a deep, soft brown with swirling hints and pinches of green and in the dark they looked warm and full and rich - considered him with such care and concern and love, and felt a surge of warmth illuminate him from head to toe, beginning in his chest and radiating both upwards and downwards until he was overwhelmed by it. "Thank you, _soyka_." He looked at their intertwined hands and smiled, then looked back up at her. "You being here means world to me." That didn't feel adequate enough to express what he was feeling. He leaned forward and kissed the bridge of the nose belonging to the woman he was utterly in love with and would undoubtedly one day marry. 

Roses blossomed in Jenna's cheeks, but she grinned a giddy, goofy smile all the same. "Anytime. As the World's Greatest Girlfriend, stuff like this is exactly what I'm here for." She was joking, but Kurt looked at her warmly and sincerely because it was the truth. 

He pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, but before he could pull back, she turned her head, and grazed her mouth against his, and he chuckled - but didn't break the kiss. Instead, he let go of her hand - so he could slide his hands slowly up her thighs, then let his fingers walk up to her waist, and then drew his arms around her so he could hold her close.

Jenna hummed into the kiss, then pulled away, a brow raised and lips quirked in that mischievous little smirk Kurt was very accustomed to. "Is this your way of telling me you want to work out all your nervous energy by having sex?"

Kurt laughed. Jenna could be very flippantly out-of-left-field sometimes, and he loved it. 

But since she had asked the question and posed the idea, and since they were alone in the guest house, and since that guest house was conveniently located a comfortable enough distance away from the main house, and since they probably wouldn't have another opportunity until they got back to San Francisco...

"Yes," Kurt teased, and tipped her chin up with a thumb so he could kiss her sweetly. 

Jenna smiled, and looped her arms around his neck, and deepened the kiss - but pulled away a few moments later to waggle her eyebrows at him again. "Then let's make these bedsprings scream, baby." 

(They did.)

* * *

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before - so much for being the World's Greatest Girlfriend - but I think I'm gonna need a real quick rundown on family history stuff." Jenna sat on the edge of the bed and rifled through her suitcase standing before her, hunting for her brush (because, as she had so astutely put it, the last thing either of them needed was for their sex hair to be noticed). "Hell, I don't even think I caught your mom's name." 

Kurt, still laying in bed with the sheets pulled lazily up to his waist, rolled onto his side and propped his head up with his fist, resting his elbow on an incredibly, luxuriously plump pillow. Her back was to him, but he didn't need to see her face to know that she was grimacing. Just the tone of her voice was indication enough. "I think she was too excited about having new taste tester and forgot her own manners, so there is no worry there." He chuckled lightly and shifted closer so he could reach out and slide his palm up and down her bare back, her skin smooth and warm against his. "But she is Anastasia. And you know Dima and Lana, obviously. And my father, Leon."

"Right," Jenna affirmed, latching onto her brush and pulling it out and turning to face him, and pulling a leg up to tuck it underneath her. She started running the brush through her ruffled, mussed brown hair halfheartedly and absently. "And then your mom - Anastasia - rattled off, like, a buttload of names when she was talking about who would be staying where." She paused, then grinned. "And, hey, now that I think about it, I guess she was right about our needing the guest house for the privacy."

Kurt chuckled and shook his head - though a soft rosy hue blossomed in his pale cheeks - but continued. "Alexander is my uncle - he is five years or so younger than my mother. He adopted two daughters, and they are my cousins, Nadia and Nadine. Nadine has three children: Felix, Ilia, and Ruslan." As he spoke, he ticked each family member off on his fingers. 

Jenna nodded, pursing her lips in determination. "Alright. I can't promise I'm going to get those down right away, but I'll do my best."

Kurt looked at her warmly and reached a hand up to rub his thumb over her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she tried to commit the names to memory. "It's fine," He assured her, and scooted closer still, so he could press his lips to the bare curve of her shoulder. 

"Mm," Jenna hummed, pausing in her combing through her hair, then turning her head and smiling wryly at him. "You better be careful with that kind of kissing, mister. You're gonna wanna make me do more of that stuff we did earlier." She walked her fingers up his chest and tipped his face up so she could steal a smooch, and Kurt chuckled and smiled against her mouth. 

And then came a loud knock on the door.

"Hey, _nerazluchniki_!" The sound of Lana's chipper voice made Kurt roll onto his back and look at the ceiling and groan. Jenna just reached out and touched his hand, smiling sympathetically. "Nadine and the boys just got back in, and they wanna see you guys." There was a beat, and then she spoke again, amusement rife in her teasing tone. "We got home, like, an hour ago, and you're already hiding out from everyone, Korach. That must be some kind of record."

Kurt didn't respond and instead just grimaced up at the ceiling.

"We'll be out in a few, Lana," Jenna called, curling her fingers through his and giving his hand a comforting squeeze. 

"Alrighty," Lana said cheerfully, and departed - her exit measured by the fading sounds of steady, confident strides and steps. 

Kurt put both hands over his face and fetched a sigh. "That is sneak peek of what this whole time is going to be like. Any opportunity she gets to throw jab like that, she is going to take."

"That offer to choke her out still stands," Jenna said earnestly, and when Kurt looked at her, the sincerity on her face made him chuckle. He rubbed at her knuckles with his thumb.

"Good to know. I might just take advantage of it," Kurt joked dryly before reluctantly shoving himself up and off of the bed, reluctantly letting go of her hand so he could get dressed and redo his hair and brace himself for meeting the rest of his family. 

* * *

When Kurt and Jenna reentered the main Goreshter house, hand-in-hand, they emerged into something resembling chaos.

Bags and suitcases were stuffed and cluttered in the foyer and in the hallway, and, in the living room, a trio of kids had deigned to claim their territory. One kid was tall and gangly and about ten years old, with a head of light brown hair combed meticulously back from his forehead, and dark eyes, and a mouthful of braces. He was seated cross-legged on the floor, across from a kid half his age, who shared his sunny, sandy complexion, but that was it - the younger kid had a much rounder face, larger eyes, a tiny nose, honey-blonde hair, and a harelip splitting his upper lip. They were surrounded by a plethora of Hot Wheels and Legos. The third kid had opted to separate himself from their messes and was sitting on the couch, his hair carefully plastered in gel and spiked and blonde streaked with brown (the affect was disorienting), one earbud popped in his ear while the other dangled, and he occasionally reached out to nudge one of his brothers with his foot and make them duck and swat at him or grumble at him. 

Kurt, who had never met Nadine's sons, blinked in surprise, but before having to take that first step and awkwardly introducing himself, Nadine herself swept into the room and saved him. The only memory he had of her was her face, and that hadn't changed - it was still shaped like a full diamond, and her eyes were still a light, translucent syrupy-brown, but everything else about her was astoundingly, radically different. Her hair was sheared short, and her tight curls dyed a rich violet. Her mouth was big and broad and wearing a bright, sunny grin. She was notably shorter than the rest of the family - with the exception of Dima - but also notably more muscular. She wore loose, baggy jeans with patterned, sewn patches on the knees, sneakers, and a balloon-sleeved bright yellow shirt. 

"Korach!" She grinned and bridged the gap between them and almost went in for an overeager, enthusiastic hug - but remembered herself at the last minute. Kurt hadn't been too overly fond of hugs or affectionate physical touching back in the day. Instead of embracing him, she thrust out a hand - one that was calloused from the manual labor and construction work she flirted with from time to time. " _It's really good to see you_."

Kurt smiled. He'd grown up with Nadine - granted, he had only seen her on holidays, but, nevertheless, she had been the only one of his family members to respect him and his wishes. He took her hand and returned her firm pump. " _You, too, Nadine. It's been long time."_

 _"It has,"_ Nadine agreed, then looked him up and down. _"You seem to be doing well, though - got some meat on your bones and some color in your face, so you don't look totally undead."_

Kurt chuckled and rolled his eyes, but then turned to Jenna - who was staring at Nadine with something like reverent awe. "Nadine," He switched to English. "This is my girlfriend, Jenna. Jenna, my cousin, Nadine."

Nadine turned her light eyes to Jenna and offered her that same dazzling smile. "Jenna," She said, without a trace of an accent (both she and Kurt would later learn that she had been living in Oregon for the past thirteen years or so). "It's nice to meet you." She paused, and raised a thick eyebrow. "I get the vibe that you're a hugger, but I don't want to overstep a boundaries. Hug, handshake, or none of the above?"

Kurt loved the way Jenna's smile fell open and how dazzled she looked and felt his heart warm when she laughed and said a hug sounded just like what the doctor ordered, and so they swept each other up in a laughing, clapping embrace, and then it broke so Nadine could turn to her kids. " _Hey, boys_ ," She said. " _Come be nice, please - come meet your uncle Korach and Jenna."_

As the boys trundled over, Kurt caught Nadine up on his name situation, and she nodded, and corrected herself, and then introduced the boys, proudly touching each one on the shoulder or ruffling their hair as they did so. The tall boy with the braces was Felix, the one with the spiky hair was Ilia, and the last one with the downy hair and round face was Ruslan. Felix offered them a smile and dip of his head, Ilia stuck out his hand and they both shook it (Kurt was surprised by the kid's polite, cordial demeanor), and Ruslan gave them both a sunny beam and chirruped a "Hello" - before promptly turning to Nadine. " _Mama, can we go outside_?" He spoke slowly and carefully, articulating and enunciating each word with careful, determined precision. " _I wanna go play with the kitties_."

Nadine laughed and nodded. " _If you can find them, sure. And be gentle! Don't bother 'em if they don't want to be bothered."_ She paused, then tacked on: _"And don't wander off too far."_

" _I'll tag along_ ," Felix volunteered, and Ruslan cheered at that, and then they turned expectantly to Ilia, who shook his head and passed with a wave of his hand before going back to the couch and plopping down on the cushion and plugging his headphones right back into his ears. The boys exchanged looks, shrugged, then scampered around Kurt and Jenna and popped open the door and practically flew down the steps. 

"Cute kids," Jenna observed with a warm smile. 

"Thanks! I made 'em myself." Nadine grinned, as did Jenna, and they both laughed at the ridiculous joke. "Nah - I mean, I did, but also - yeah. Thank you. They alternate between being angels and absolute hellraisers and it's always a gamble so you never know what you're going to get." She slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans and shot Kurt a wry look. "I like the 'do you've got going on now. Very different from your high school schtick."

Jenna immediately perked up, eyes bouncing from Kurt to Nadine eagerly. "What?"

Kurt knew where Nadine was going with that and braced himself - even though a hint of a tiny little amused smile played at his lips. "Thank you. Long hair did not suit me."

Jenna gaped at him, her smile huge and wide. "Long hair?"

"Yes," Nadine affirmed, starting to laugh. "I remember 'cause it was longer than Lana's, and she was SO upset about that. It went down to, like, here." She pointed just below her sternum. "And Lana told me you hogged the bathroom every morning because you were so busy straightening it."

"That is true," He acquiesced begrudgingly. 

"Oh my GOD. Please tell me there are pictures. _Please,"_ Jenna beseeched, and her whole face was just illuminated with sheer delight as she looked up at him. "I need to see long-haired rockstar Kurt." 

"Oh," Nadine interjected before Kurt could answer, "There ARE. I know where Auntie Tasia keeps all the scrapbooks."

"Excellent!" Jenna grinned and looked up at Kurt and gave his hand a squeeze. "Sorry, babe, but this is a rite of passage for me." 

Kurt just chuckled and shook his head and knew there would be no stopping either Nadine or Jenna. This kind of stuff - the lighthearted teasing, the slightly-embarrassing-but-tolerable-reminiscing - was something he could handle. He enjoyed it, in fact. "Have good time," He told her, and smiled as her hand slid out of his and she walked down the hall with Nadine, both of them chatting up a storm.

He watched them go with a warm smile on his face, but then he heard the telltale lurching, heavy steps of his father, and he looked up to see him pass through the kitchen tapestry, looking stoic and solemn. "Kurt," He said, and Kurt knew his mother had probably told him about the whole name thing, " _You should probably go see your Babushka. She's awake now_." There was a hanging end of the sentence filled with impending gloom. 

Kurt's smile fell, and he nodded, and as he shuffled off down the hallway to visit with his ill grandmother, Leon clapped him on the shoulder. Startled, Kurt looked at him - but Leon only nodded and gave him something of his version of a comforting squeeze. Kurt, not really sure what to make of his father's newfound means of actually expressing emotion, just gave him an awkward nod back and continued down the hall towards the door at the far end of it - having absolutely no idea what to expect and wondering nervously if he was ready for what (and who) was behind that door. 


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt entered his parents’ bedroom and saw his grandmother laying in his parents’ massive king bed and felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest, knotting up into a tight, hot lump.

Sonja Goreshter was disappearing into herself. 

Her sickly pale skin was drawn tightly over her bones, hollowing her face and neck and drawing attention to her prominently jutting jaw and collarbones and shoulders and making her look skeletal. Her hair was thin and downy and gray and piled in a loose, sloppy bun on top of her head. One of her eyes was cloudy - frosted over by a cataract. She sat with the sheets pooling in her lap and around her with a plump pillow tucked between her frail body and the wooden headboard. She fiddled with her bony fingers and looked out of the window to her left, but turned her head upon hearing the gentle clicks of the door opening and closing. 

Kurt looked at his grandmother - his tough, rough-and-rumble, former police officer Babushka - and felt his throat thicken with emotion. Whatever was plaguing her was eating her alive and rendering the strongest person he knew utterly helpless. 

Sonja saw the look on his face and her eyes flashed challengingly. “ _I_ _f you’re just going to stand there and gawk, you might as well turn yourself right around and march back through that door."_

Kurt yanked himself out of his stupor and approached her bedside. “ _I am so-”_

“ _Don’t._ ” Sonja held up a bony hand, voice flat and curt. She looked at him with severe, dour eyes. “ _I’m tired of the sympathy and the ‘I’m sorrys.’ They exhaust me._ ” She tipped a hand in her general direction and a bitter, tight smile curved her thin lips upwards. " _This is just a part of life."_

Kurt just nodded and tucked his hands in his pockets and just stood there awkwardly. He had never really known how to behave around Sonja, let alone how to interact with her, but he’d still loved the absolute hell out of her, though. Which made seeing her like this...very hard. Even harder, though, was knowing that she hated this with a fervent passion - not the aging, or the illness, but the looks in people’s eyes, the tender offers for help, the gentle hand pats, all things which were undoubtedly, in her opinion, patronizing. Her own body was betraying her and beating her into forced, cruel submission, and she couldn’t do a single thing about it but let it happen. 

Kurt didn’t know what to say. He wished he did, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out and so, feeling dumb, he closed it.

Sonja laughed a rattling, grating laugh. “ _There’s so much Goreshter in you, boy,_ ” She observed dryly. “ _Me, your father, Leon’s father...we all gave you that trademark Silence._ ”

Kurt smiled a tight, awkward smile. “ _I would thank you for it, but_ …” He trailed off. Emotional blockage, stoicism, and the inability to communicate were not things he was especially thankful for. 

Sonja snickered again. “‘ _But’ is right. The longer you go without speaking, the harder it is to be heard when you finally talk. You don’t use your voice - you lose it._ ” Her sardonic smile tapered and she looked at Kurt, one eye filmy - the other crystal-clear and sharp as a tack. “ _Don’t neglect yours, Korach_.”

Kurt nodded. He was working on that. He told her so, and Sonja smiled. “ _I can tell. You’re very different from the silent, isolated, lonely little boy I remember."_

There was plenty of reason for that change - or, rather, series of changes. He was in a space - mentally and physically - that he wanted to be in. He had friends - hell, family - who made him want to use his voice and, when he did, made him feel listened to - made him feel heard. Being with them had dwindled his need to isolate and had prompted him to come out of hiding. 

And so he had. 

The initial lull of awkwardness had receded, so Kurt told his grandmother about his life and the changes that had enabled him to grow. As he talked, and spoke of his family back home in San Francisco, he felt...full. With warmth, with happiness, with gratitude - with belonging. He talked about Luis, who had insisted they all take a selfie together in front of the building where X-Con leased their office space once they had gotten the keys and the place had officially been deemed theirs. He talked about Dave, with whom he had spent many a long, late night ordering pizza and squabbling over whose turn it was to get up from the couch and give their shitty TV a good thwap so the image would clear. He talked about Scott and how they had spent an entire day dismantling the Ant-Man suit piece by piece and bit by bit and adding modifications or tweaking things here and there and how they had both borne the brunt of Hank’s sharp tongue together like a couple of schoolboys being scolded by their teacher. He mentioned Maggie and Paxton briefly - who he was getting to know more and more and liked - and Cassie, who playfully referred to him, Dave, and Luis as her Triad of Uncles. 

And then there was Jenna.

Sonja saw the way his face softened, how his eyes glazed over with warmth, how a special little smile played at his lips - and raised a sharp, knowing eyebrow. “ _And who is it that’s got you looking so moony_?"” She queried, but before he could answer, she continued with a soft cluck of her tongue. “ _I_ _’ve known you your whole life, Korach - give or take a couple of years - and I have never seen you smile like that. Whoever it is must be pretty special._ ”

Kurt smiled that warm, sweet smile he’d come to think of as his Jenna Smile because he’d absolutely never smiled like that before meeting her. “ _She is_ ,” He said softly. “ _Her name is Jenna, and she is_ -” He faltered. How was he supposed to describe her? How could he put into words her bubbly and spirited endurance, the sweet earnestness and passion and drive of her heart, her cheeky and goofy and dorky and cheesy sense of humor? How was he supposed to talk about the way seeing her big, broad, bright, unabashed smile and hearing her wonderful, spirited, contagious laughter made him feel so - so warm, and happy, and how much he loved seeing that smile and hearing that laugh? And her eyes - how could he even articulate the way she looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and how much love and compassion and understanding and gentleness those eyes held? Was there a way to describe how her bad jokes, puns, and pickup lines simultaneously exasperated and endeared him? How her carefree haphazardness occasionally worried him? How he felt when he held her and kissed her and when she ‘starfished’ onto him when they were snuggling up together and how she would kiss his forehead or jaw or cheek and how she would comb her fingers through his hair?

Was there even a way he could articulate how much he loved her that would do his feelings justice?

The answer to that, he knew, was no.

“ _She is wonderful,_ ” He finished instead. Scott, Luis, and Dave (and, by some extension, Hope and Janet and Hank and Maggie and Paxton and Cassie) had become his family - and Jenna, his home. 

“ _That ‘wonderful’ tells me all I need to know,_ ” Sonja said, and unclasped her hands from where they’d been folded primly on her emaciated stomach, and reached out to touch his arm. Her firm, earnest gaze bore up into his. “ _I lost my ‘wonderful’ a few years ago, and it hasn’t gotten any easier._ ” She trailed off for a beat, pain flickering and fluttering across her face - and then she shook it off and continued. “ _I lost a couple of ‘wonderfuls,’ actually. Ivan._ ” Her gaze flicked briefly away. “ _My job_.” The police force had been her passion. " _My body. I can’t even get out of bed without hurting all over and feeling terribly sick._ ” Her upper lip curled vehemently, but then she seemed to remind herself of something and shook her head. “ _But all of it is so much easier to cope with, so much easier to handle, knowing that my children and grandchildren have found their own ‘wonderfuls_.’”

Kurt looked at her thoughtful, reflective face, then down to her hand, which slid from his forearm down to his fingers. He curled his tattooed digits around hers and squeezed (gently). 

Sonja’s hand remained in his only for a couple of seconds before it slid away. “ _I_ _’m glad you’re doing well, Korach._ ” She clasped her hands together over her belly and seemed to have reverted right back to her brusque, no-nonsense, direct-to-the-point self. 

Kurt smiled. That was the Babushka he knew. “ _Thank you._ ”

She grunted, and then a touch of silence passed, and she looked at him expectantly. “ _Will that be all, or should I brace myself to prolong my peace and quiet even further_?”

Kurt bit back a combination grin-laugh, because that bite was all too familiar. “ _No, that is it_.” He looked at her sitting in the bed and impulsively bent forward to kiss her forehead. He realized what he was doing as he was doing it, and he pulled away slowly and stiffly.

Sonja blinked owlishly - awkwardly - then shook her head. “ _You get your sappy affection from your mother, Korach_.” She flapped a dismissive, impatient hand at him, though a smile played at her lips. “ _Get outta here_.”

“ _Yes, Babushka_ ,” Kurt said immediately and obediently, and smiled, and left the room feeling better than when he had entered it, for quite a few reasons. For one, she hadn’t lost the spark and spunk that made her her, and, for another, as cantankerous as she was about her situation, she had...accepted it. And whatever lay next for her would relieve her of her bereavement in her current condition, and release her from everything that she loathed, and -

Well, it wouldn’t qualify as ‘wonderful,’ but it would most certainly be _freeing._

* * *

Kurt was sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest house, fiddling with his rings and staring at - or through, rather - the floor, when someone knocked on the sliding barn door. He tossed a "come in" over his shoulder but didn't look up to see who yanked the door open and just listened to it clatter back on its track. 

The following heavy, lilted, thumping gate announced his father's presence. Kurt didn't look up as Leon trundled over to the bed and sat next to him, the bedsprings shrieking in protest at the additional - and considerable - weight. Once the bed settled and the squeal faded, a silence fell - one that was thick and cloying and peppered with awkwardness and discomfort. 

Leon was the first to break it. " _How did it go_?"

" _Not bad_ ," Kurt answered, tugging a ring off and rolling it around in his palm. " _S_ _he was not as...angry as I thought she would be_."

Leon chuffed a breathy laugh. " _It comes and goes_."

Kurt smiled, an awkward, crooked, half-smile, but it dropped shortly after it appeared. He had accepted the very real and impending death of his grandmother - had even rationalized it - but the deep melancholy sitting in his chest was indicative of his trying to actually process it. Which was a very weird thing to do. But he couldn't stop thinking about how bittersweet his visit with her had been, and how, in time, that would be nothing more than an intangible memory, and Babushka - Babushka would be nothing more than an intangible memory. His throat suddenly snapped shut in that uncomfortably thick way and he worked to swallow past the sudden lump there, but it was...difficult. He needed the time to feel - to mourn - to grieve, and he wasn't going to let his family's 'anti-emotion' brick wall stop him from doing that. Thinking of the family trademark, however, made him realize there was someone else who didn't live within the confines of the brick wall, and thinking of how the whole situation would weigh on her hurt his heart. " _How is Matushka handling it_?" Kurt asked, looking up and at his father's craggy, bearded, age-worn face. 

Leon's broad shoulders sagged and he ran a hand absently over his coarse, dense beard. " _I don't think it's actually sunk in yet. You know how she is._ "

Kurt did. Anastasia was fiercely, bullheadedly optimistic, which tended to occasionally blind her to reality. Sonja's death would blindside her and serve as a one-two sucker-punch to her heart and gut. He hated the thought, but it was true. He looked down at his hands and slipped his ring back on his finger and continued to fiddle because the absent, pointless motion of his hands soothed him. 

" _And how are you handling it, Korach_?"

"Kurt," Kurt corrected absently.

"Kurt, _then_ ," Leon agreed, blinking once or twice but not questioning it or prodding, and for that Kurt was grateful. 

" _I am_ -" Kurt cut himself off as soon as he realized 'fine' was dancing on the tip of his tongue. Ducking a question about his wellbeing with a brusque 'I'm fine' was something he had done plenty of times when he had been living with them and closing himself off from the world, and even if it was a lie, it was one he had fallen back on time and time again. This time, however, he refused to succumb to old habits. " _Sad_ ," He finished, the word tumbling from his lips. It was true. He felt the sadness sitting in his chest like a cold stone. The lump in his throat was still present and making it difficult for him to speak casually. " _It is hard._ " He continued to stare a hole in the floor and missed the way Leon's hand rose, hovered above his shoulder, then ultimately pulled back. 

" _It is_ ," Leon acquiesced, awkwardly rubbing his palms up and down his thighs. " _But it'll be a relief for her, you know. She's spent her whole life fighting and hanging on - and now she can finally let go."_

Kurt bit down on his lip to keep the strangled noise rising in his chest locked inside him. He was choking up. He could feel grief starting in his chest and radiating, rippling, outwards, and swelling, and he felt queasy with the taste of it.

Leon looked at his son, but before he could say - or do - anything, light, jouncy footsteps punctured their silence, and Jenna came ambling into the guest shack. “Oh my god, Kurt, your family photos are _amazing_ \- Nadine showed me this one where you -” Her spirited, delighted voice sputtered out immediately upon seeing him sitting, hunched over, at the edge of the bed. “Wha - Kurt...are you okay?”

Kurt said nothing. Leon gave his son a brief, awkward, one-armed hug before rising - with a grunt - and turning to shuffle out of the shack and give him and Jenna some privacy.

Kurt heard his father murmur something to his girlfriend as they passed each other, but didn’t quite catch what it was. He was too busy staring at the floor and watching the way it shimmied and danced under his wavering, wet vision and feeling his eyes sting and burn.

And then Jenna settled down next to him, her thigh pressing warmly and comfortingly against his, and reached out to stroke a gentle hand against his back. “Hey, hey,” She said softly, gently, her gaze tracing his face and soaking in every little detail. “What’s going on, Kurt?”

Kurt pulled his focus from the floor - a monumental task - and looked at Jenna. He looked at her furrowed brow, concerned eyes, frowning lips - and said “My grandmother is dying” before his grief broke something in him (a brick wall, perhaps) and for the first time in a very, very long time, Kurt started to cry. 

He bent back over and pressed his thumb and index finger against his closed lids, trying to squash the tears - a futile effort, seeing as they came unbidden and undeterred and eased down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Hey,” Jenna said, her voice still soft - but now throbbing with concern and pain. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, babe.” He dropped his hand from his face and looked at her with red, moist eyes, and she touched his cheek with her fingertips before sliding her palm into place against his face and stroking her thumb against his hot, flushed, wet skin. “Not to me, not to anyone. You’re more than entitled to cry - hell, to _feel.”_ She brushed one of his tears away. “I’m so sorry, Kurt,” She said, voice shifting into a lower, raspier decibel - one that was thick and froggy with welling emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Kurt straightened, but only so he could lean over and rest his forehead against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close and he could feel himself shuddering against her as he wept. He was a silent crier - the tears came alone, but wracked through him nevertheless. She said nothing, and kissed the top of his head, and held him.

Crying made him feel...raw. Split open. Vulnerable. A door had been opened somewhere inside of him, and a million things were rushing and tumbling and stampeding to get out. 

His tears were far more than just for his grandmother. They were for his mother - his sweet, wonderful, lighthearted mother - who would soon be losing her own mother. They were for his brother and sister who, as much as he didn’t get along with them and as much trauma as they had heaped upon him growing up, both shouldered the burden of carrying that Goreshter brick wall inside of them. They were for his father, who was working on dismantling his own wall, brick by brick, after years of knowing nothing but cemented encasement.

And they were also for himself, too. 

The tears were for little Kurt, who had never gotten to _feel_ like this, who had believed relieving bad feelings - or even showing that he had them in the first place - was weakness, and that he was weak, and if he hoped to be even a single iota as strong as his father or grandmother, he needed to handle himself and bottle all of that shit up. The tears were for little Kurt, who had deprived himself of the joy of being a kid, of growing up, of truly _living,_ because he had suppressed so much - 

Kurt cried because he was saying goodbye to Sonja, but he also cried because, for the first time in years, he had had the epiphany that there was _nothing_ weak about what he was doing and what he was feeling - and how he was expressing it. 

There was nothing weak about feeling - about living - about being _human._

And so Kurt melted into Jenna's embrace and let himself cry, and she held him and stroked his back and kissed his forehead, and neither of them said a single word.

They were too busy feeling. 


	7. Chapter 7

The Goreshter family (and Jenna) sat down to eat at seven o’clock on the dot. The arrangement was a unique one - the dining room table could barely seat five, let alone the ten who were currently shacking up at _dom_ Goreshter - and so they all were huddled up in the living room. Leon, Nadine, and Jenna had wrestled the table into the space between the couch and the hallway, and that was were Sonja, Anastasia, Lana, and Dima currently sat. The boys - Felix, Ruslan, and Ilia - were cozied up on the couch, with their mom sitting on the floor with her back pressed up against it. Leon occupied the armchair, and Kurt and Jenna sat on suitcases that had been dragged from the guest room and volunteered as perches. 

All of them had plates before them - be they balanced on their laps or knees or resting on the thin, papery cloth of the table - and were working on what they had nabbed from the kitchen, where Anastasia had prepared a veritable feast. She’d whipped up some _kotlety_ (traditional meat patties loaded with beef, cracker crumbs, and garlic), a big bowl of olivier salad with a couple of pinches of salt and pepper to give it some extra zest, a couple of plates crowded with doughy pampushki that were filled with cheese and cooked with onion, and a fresh batch of the tea cakes that she had been experimenting with earlier. 

They were all chowing down with gusto and so the room was silent save for the chatter of forks and knives on ceramic plates and the working and gnawing of chewing jaws, but even if they hadn’t been eating, Kurt knew the silence would have remained the same.

It was all too familiar. 

He mulled that - and his current papushka roll - over, but was pulled out of his reverie when he realized that Lana was looking at him from where she sat.

The gears in her head were turning - he could see it in the sharp, wicked glint of her dark eyes. He frowned, and inwardly prepared himself for her to say something about his swollen, puffy red eyes, but she just smiled an easygoing, casual smile, popped a scoop of salad into her mouth, chewed, and then said, “So, Korach - why don’t you catch _Matushka_ and _Otets_ and the rest of the family up on what you’ve been up to these past few years?” 

Kurt’s fingers curled taut around his fork. He knew _exactly_ what she was getting at, and his eyes flashed heatedly at her. She just returned a broad, cheeky grin. 

He knew, now that she had spoken the words into existence, there would be no getting out of this one. Not with the expectant way everyone was looking at him. “Okay,” He said reluctantly, speaking slowly, glad they were speaking English because it managed to serve as something of a buffer. “Well, my friends and I started security business -”

Dima chuckled a low, snickering laugh. “ _If you can call a rinky-dink security firm a ‘business.’”_

Kurt glared at him, more affronted by that insult than he had been by Lana fishing for drama. He was proud of his job and his work, damn it, and proud of all the work his friends had put in, too; together, they’d built a - contrary to what Dima believed - very legitimate operation, and he wasn’t going to let any of his siblings belittle or dismantle that. Dima just shrugged and kept eating. 

“Congrats, Kor -” Anastasia caught herself. “Kurt. That is wonderful.” She beamed at him, face radiant with warmth and pride.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lana said brusquely, dismissively. “But tell ‘em _why_ you started a security company, of all things - ooh, wait, no! Tell ‘em the NAME of your business.” She ignored her food and sat back in her chair, her grin broad and eyes twinkling with delight. She was having a hell of a time devouring the mounting tension - on Kurt’s end, at least. The rest of the family had no idea what kind of ball was going to drop. 

“X-Con,” Kurt answered, glowering at her, but he spoke without shame. He’d be damned if he was going to let Lana badger him into being embarrassed or contrite - he refused to give her that pleasure. “Because we are all ex-convicts.”

At that precise moment, as soon as the words fell out of his mouth, there came three distinct, sharp, startled ‘what’s: two in Russian (from his grandmother and his father), and one in English (his mother). 

“What’s an ex-convict?” Ruslan asked as he took a hearty bite from a tea cake and looked at Kurt with his round, innocuous eyes. 

Lana seized her opportunity. “An ex-convict, kiddo, is someone who committed a crime and served some time in prison before being released back out into society with all us common folk.” Her gaze bounced back to Kurt, and her lips curled in a devious, wry little grin. “And that’s what your uncle Korach is.” 

Felix, sitting next to Ruslan, gasped. “Is that why you’ve got all of those tattoos?” He eyed his uncle’s hands. 

Kurt shook his head. “No. Tattoos were choice.” 

“ _Hang on,”_ Sonja spoke, and her voice was crisp and clear and sharp, and Kurt internally flinched at the coolness of her tone. “ _Back up. How’d this happen? What did you do, Korach?"_

Kurt looked from his grandmother, who was looking at him with clear, calm, focused eyes, to his mother, who looked concerned, to his father, who just looked...astonished, and then to his older sister, who was smiling like she had just won the lottery. He mentally cursed her, then answered his grandmother’s question - still speaking in English. “I got into some trouble when I went to America,” He said begrudgingly. “Couple of guys talked me into doing not-so-good things. Got caught, spent some time in prison.” He eyed his nephews who were ogling him and wondered, suddenly, with growing unsettled unease, if he shouldn’t be talking about his stint in Folsom in front of them.

“ _Prison_ ,” Leon said, still looking at Kurt with that expression of bewilderment on his rugged face. “ _Not jail_?”

“Yes, Papa,” Lana interjected smugly. “Prison.”

Kurt scowled a dark, thunderous scowl at her. “I am sorry,” He said bitingly, “Did you want to tell the story, Lana? Is that why you brought it up?”

“Not at all,” She said innocuously. “I just thought it might be something important to share with the folks.” She leaned back in her seat and folded her hands complacently over her stomach, still smiling sweetly. 

“I’m sorry,” Jenna spoke for the first time in a couple of minutes, and Kurt looked at her. She sat by his side, but she, too, wasn’t eating, and the normally loose, happy-go-lucky, lax expression she wore had tightened into something else. She didn’t return his gaze and he followed hers to see she was looking straight at Lana. “I know I probably don’t have the right to chime in on any of this, but - last time I checked, Lana, all of this is Kurt’s business. Not yours. Don’t you think it’s kind of fu -” Her gaze bounced to the kids sitting on the couch, all of whom were enraptured by the current going-ons, then flitted back to Lana. “Screwed up to throw your own brother under the bus like that? To not even give him the chance to decide when and where to talk about this _private_ stuff - _privately?”_

Kurt balanced his plate on his thighs and reached over to touch one of Jenna’s. “ _Soyka,_ ” He murmured. “Don’t. It is not worth the energy or effort to debate with her -”

“No,” Lana said. “No, Korach. Let her talk. She wants to know why I did what I did - which was prompt you to catch us up on the stuff we’ve missed; I didn’t make you say a single thing about your prison stint at all -”

“You _goaded_ him into it,” Jenna argued, brows drawn tight over her eyes. 

Lana ignored her. “And I want to know why she can just waltz right in here and butt in on family business that has nothing to do with her. She’s not a Goreshter - she’s just a stranger.”

For a moment, the room was rocked by silence - and then Anastasia looked at her daughter sharply. “Lana!” She chastised. 

Lana looked at her mother defensively. “What? It’s TRUE. She’s not a part of this family, she shouldn’t be able to just throw her hat in the ring like that -”

Kurt set his plate aside and started to rise, not knowing what he was going to do but feeling the angry heat emanating from his chest dictate it, but it was Jenna’s turn to touch him, and her hand on his elbow eased him back down. “No, I get it,” She said. “Lana’s right.”

Kurt looked at her, bewildered, but she was focused on Lana. “I _am_ a stranger - but not to Kurt. And I think it’s also safe to say that just because he’s your brother, doesn’t automatically mean that his business is yours. You’re not entitled to that - you’re not entitled to his life.” She looked at Lana with a flatness on her face that Kurt had never seen before. “And I stand by what I said. What you did was _shitty.”_

“Shitty,” Ruslan echoed, and Nadine patted his leg and shushed him (also shaking her head and giving him a pointed look indicating that that was not a permissible word for him to use).

Silence blanketed the makeshift dining room - a tense and uncomfortable silence wherein Jenna and Lana simply stared at each other - and then Sonja broke it. “ _I’ve lost my appetite,”_ She muttered, setting her fork down with a clatter and bracing her palms to the table so she could push herself back and rise from her chair. Anastasia instinctively moved to help her, but she shrugged her daughter off, and found her footing, and slowly shuffled off down the hallway, one hand tracing along the wall to keep her balance. Anastasia watched her go worriedly. 

Kurt bent over, propped his elbows on his knees, and put his head in his hands. 

One angry, sullen, dispirited thought hung heavy in his head.

_Blyad._

* * *

_"I am sorry, Matushka,"_ Kurt said as he stood in the entryway to the kitchen with his hands in his pockets and the dividing tapestry brushing against his back. The dining room table was still in the living room, and the kitchen looked...empty. 

Anastasia stood at the counter, deftly packing the remainders of dinner into various storage containers. " _For what_?" 

Kurt grimaced. " _For...everything, I guess_." He paused, then shook his head. " _Ruining dinner_." He paused again because there was still more. " _And not telling you about what happened in America."_

" _You didn't ruin anything_ ," Ana insisted as she scooped the rest of the salad into a large plastic bowl, and Kurt smiled because even though the rest of the dinner had been awkward and fraught with an even richer, thicker silence (only punctuated by the boys asking to go outside and play, since they were done with their food and there was still a little bit of light out) and tension that rippled between Lana and Jenna, his mother kept her optimism about her. She popped the lid onto the bowl - with some force and effort - and turned to face her son. " _And Jenna had a very good point. Lana had no right pushing you on like that. It was your story to tell, on your own time."_ Now it was her turn to pause, and she bit her lip, that concern springing back into her eyes. " _I just need to know one thing, Korach. Was it - did anyone -"_

He immediately caught her drift, slid his hands out of his pockets, and approached her. " _No, no, no_ ," He assured her, taking her hands in his own. " _It was not...violent. Nobody got hurt_. _But it most definitely was...dumb. And reckless. I would try to offer excuses by saying guys were smooth-talkers, or I was young and easily swayed, but...it was bad decision-making on my part as much as it was any of that other reasoning. I went along with it. I said 'yes.' And there were consequences."_

Anastasia looked at her son and Kurt looked back and then he saw her eyes well with tears and felt panic spike his heart. " _Matushka? Are you alright_?"

She nodded - tearfully. She took her hands out of his and instead cupped his face. " _Thank you,"_ She whispered. _"I know that you would never do anything along those lines, but I had to hear it for myself."_ She stroked one of his cheeks with her thumb. " _I think it just occurred to me how...how grown up you are."_

Kurt chuckled - a breath, embarrassed kind of chuckle. " _Matushka_..."

" _Okay, okay_." Ana laughed and pulled away and hastily wiped at her eyes. " _I won't get caught up in marveling about how much of an adult you are and how old I'm getting._ " She said this teasingly, and backed up a few paces - then put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. " _On a different subject, I am also sorry about Lana."_ Her frown turned sad and concerned. " _And what she said to Jenna_."

That made Kurt frown. Technically-speaking, as Jenna had pointed out, Lana had been right - to everyone in the room save himself, she was a stranger. But the way she had phrased it - the venom she had poured over the 'just' part - the ' _She's **just**_ _a stranger' -_ it irked him. 

Actually, it downright pissed him off. 

" _Nobody said Lana had to like Jenna_ ," Kurt said. " _But a little tact would have been nice_."

Anastasia studied him, and raised her brows, leaning back against the counter packed with food and folding her arms over her chest. " _Agreed on the 'liking' thing - believe you me, you can try with all of your might to get every single person in the world to like you, and it'll never work. Not in a million years. But there's more to it than just that, Korach - Kurt._ " She smiled knowingly and tapped her temple. " _I'm your mother, kiddo. I see it in your eyes."_

And, with that, it all came spilling out of him. " _It's just....the way she said it. That Jenna is 'just a stranger._ '" He shook his head vigorously. " _Lana said Jenna was not a part of the family, but she was wrong - Jenna's a big part of mine."_ He looked at his mother just then, and she looked solemn and grim and sad, because she knew the connotations of what he was saying, but she nodded. She understood. " _Jenna is not 'just a stranger.' She is...so much more, she is..."_ Again, Kurt found himself backed into the predicament of trying to express something beyond the scope of words, and grew frustrated, but then he saw Ana smiling at him with a soft, warm amusement and lost his track. " _What_?"

She shook her head, but that same secretive fondness curved her lips. " _You Goreshter boys all have the same tendency to twist your own tongues into knots. Luckily, I've been living with the Master of Tongue-Tied for decades, so I know what you're trying to say. She's lyubov' vsey tvoyey zhizni."_

Kurt felt himself grow warm, and he nodded. 

Yeah.

'Love of his life.'

That's most definitely what Jenna was.

Ana smiled, but then it flickered. " _So I know it must have been painful to hear the things Lana said - and that subtext in how she said it. But the thing about Lana...she gets a little blinded by her own desires, her own interests, her own likes. She thrives off of creating tension, and drama, and garnering attention through any means necessary. And she's a trailblazer - she gets that from your father - so sometimes people can get...trampled in the wake of her chasing that stuff she craves."_

 _"And she has made it her lifelong mission to turn her wrath on me,"_ Kurt tacked on dryly.

Ana grimaced. _"That, too. Unfortunately."_

Kurt shook his head. " _I don't want to think or talk about her anymore right now. She's grated on my nerves enough already."_ He smiled thinly. " _Insulting my girlfriend was cherry on top."_ That triggered another thought that came swimming to the surface, and he frowned. " _Where is Jenna, by the way?"_ He hadn't seen her since everyone had branched off from the awkward dinner - she had gotten up, and he had squeezed her hand, and she had just flashed him a soft smile and planted a quick peck on his cheek - and then had, evidently, disappeared while he had gone to talk to his mother. 

" _Out back, talking with your father,"_ Ana said.

Kurt blinked a few times. Jenna, his songbird of a girlfriend who very much enjoyed talking, and Leon, the brickhouse whose vernacular tended to be grunts in different pitches, volumes, and tones? _That_ was odd. 

Anastasia saw the look on his face and laughed. " _I'm sure it's nothing bad, Kurt - but to take your mind off of that, come help your old lady clean up, won't you?"_

Kurt smiled and nodded. _"Of course, Matushka."_

 _"And let me get a good look at those tattoos, too."_ She snagged one of his hands as he approached.

Kurt just chuckled, and let it happen, beginning to coast off the wild wave of anger and into smoother, calmer waters - though he knew he wouldn't be forgetting about this latest notch Lana had carved in him anytime soon. 


	8. Chapter 8

After helping his mother pack up the leftover food from their hearty dinner into a plethora of plastic tubs and containers and shelve them into the fridge, followed by a thorough cleaning of the kitchen (all the while bearing the brunt of a ceaseless, incessant barrage of questions about his life), Kurt emerged from the Goreshter house and into the evening air.

He stepped onto the dewy grass of the steppe, an inch or so away from the thin gravel road that carved its way through the gently sloping plains, and pulled in a long, deep breath, taking in lungful after lungful of sweet, cool air. It flooded his senses and filled his chest, zapping him with a revitalizing energy that loosened some of the knotted tension thrumming in his body.

He rounded the side of the house, ambling slowly and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. A million thoughts whirled around in his head, but he did his best to stamp them down - to quash them. He'd had a very, _very_ long day, and didn't have the mental or emotional fortitude to handle any more reveries, epiphanies, or revelations. He just wanted to enjoy the rest of his night, damn it.

So he emerged into the vast, sprawling 'backyard' (in the loosest sense of the word, given that the enormous steppe unfolding behind the house was the backyard of everyone who lived in this isolated little community) and spotted the silhouettes of his father and his girlfriend. They stood together, backs to the house, and Kurt smiled because though the light of the day was dimming, he could see their figures outlined, and the difference between them was almost comical. 

He approached right as Leon awkwardly patted Jenna's shoulder and she responded by looking up at him, saying something, and laughing. Then she angled her head, and caught a glimpse of Kurt as he strolled up to them, and even in the dawning darkness, he could see her smile brighten and her eyes gleam. Seeing her - and hearing her as she greeted him with a warm "Hey, you" - melted the rest of his stress away.

"Hi," He returned in kind, planting a soft, light kiss on her cheek. 

"Time to call it a night?" One of Jenna's hands skittered down his arm and she looked up at him with raised brows and a sweet smile as she laced their fingers together.

Kurt squeezed her hand gently. "Yes," He affirmed before tacking on wryly, a hint of a sardonic smile playing at his lips. "I think it has been long day for everyone."

Leon chuffed a low, rumbling grunt of a laugh.

Jenna rubbed a thumb soothingly over his knuckles. "Alright then," She declared. "Good night it is, then." She glanced over at Kurt's father, still standing there and looking out at the fields with a flat, inexpressive face. "It was nice chatting with you, Leon." 

He responded with a dip of his head and a grunt - and then seemed to catch himself, and wrangle himself back into using his manners (of which he was a very clearly still-new-and-awkward practitioner). "You, too." 

Hand-in-hand, their shoulders brushing, Kurt and Jenna began to head off towards the guest shack - until the sound of Leon clearing his throat (a noise not unlike that of the rumble of thunder) stopped them both.

"Korach," Leon said. "Can I talk to you for moment?"

Kurt grimaced. That impassive tone was all-too-familiar and surely forewarned of a lecture of some sort. He looked down at Jenna, who disentangled herself from him and told him she'd be waiting up in the guest shack, and that she'd see him there in a couple of minutes. 'Good luck,' She mouthed as she took a few steps away, walking backwards, following her lipped sentiment with a cheeky air kiss blown his way.

Wanting to prolong what was undoubtedly going to be an uncomfortable conversation with his father, Kurt played along, mimed catching said kiss, and pinned it to his heart.

Jenna grinned and turned to walk away, and he watched her go and wished, more than anything, that he was walking right along with her, but then his father cleared his throat again and he knew there would be no more wasting time. 

So he turned and rejoined his dad. 

And, for more than a few beats as the sky gradually darkened hues, there was nothing but silence. Now this Kurt had come to expect from his trip home - this sort of weird, shuffling, not-sure-what-to-do-with-ourselves kind of silence that felt very familiar and reminded him of his childhood, but he didn't get much further into the biting reminiscing before Leon spoke.

" _You and Lana are not children anymore. Your mother and I were hoping you two would both be able to be civil with one another, just this once."_ He folded his massive arms over his chest and finally looked at Kurt. _"But if tonight's dinner is any indication of how the rest of your time here is going to go..."_

" _She started it_ ," Kurt blurted out instinctively, a knee-jerk reaction, but when Leon looked at him with raised brows as if he had just proven his point, he deflated and acquiesced. " _Right. We made deal at airport before we flew out here that we wouldn't do things like...that."_ He said the last word bitterly. _"But I guess that flew out the window."_ He trailed off, and looked out over the steppe, and worked out what he wanted to say and how best to say it. " _I am sorry about dinner. That was not okay._ " He paused, and inhaled deeply because this next bit was going to be particularly tough to get out, especially after a lifetime of conditioning to keep things bottled up. But he'd already broken one stoic barrier by crying today, so he felt like he could handle breaking another by communicating. His tongue was already beginning to feel knotted and tangled, but he shoved through it. " _I think bottom line is Lana and I do not get along. I'm sorry other people got caught in the fallout of it. I truly am. But I am not going to apologize for finally standing up for myself when she tries to bulldoze right over me as she has been doing for years. She's done nothing but belittle and berate me, and I'm sick of it. She has no right to undermine me for anything - for who I am, or for the things I've done, or for the work I do, and she sure as hell has no right coming after my girlfriend."_ He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing. " _And I do not think Jenna was out of line, either._ " He remembered the nasty way Lana had snarled about her being a stranger and felt his skin crawl in irritation again.

Leon spoke before Kurt could continue. " _You don't have to defend yourself on that front, Korach."_ A hint of a smile played at his lips. " _I say this with love because she is my daughter, but Lana could stand to go down a peg or two."_

Kurt only uttered a light, lowing scoff. That was an understatement. 

" _My main point is if this is something that is going to continue being a problem, you and Lana need to talk about it."_ Leon looked at Kurt and saw the way his nose instinctively wrinkled and continued. " _That does not sound like most pleasant thing in the world, I know, but this is clearly a big issue, and shit like tonight - that can't happen again. There is time and place for you and Lana to hash it out, I'm sure - but in private. Civility is all I ask of you."_

Kurt considered. He was still working around the whole sitting-down-and-talking-to-Lana thing. Their brief conversation in the airport had been bad enough, but - 

Something in his head clicked suddenly and sharply.

" _Okay_ ," He said aloud, biting back a wickedly delighted smile. " _I can manage civility_." 

Leon looked at him skeptically. " _I see the gears in your head turning, Korach - Kurt. What're you thinking?_ "

" _Nothing_ ," Kurt lied as he thought about how much Lana thrived off of attention and how she did the things she did solely for the sake of causing drama and also drawing focus and spotlights onto herself and how much it would needle her to not receive any sort of reaction or response to her...Lana-ness. That was what he was thinking. He was tired of her posing such a large, looming shadow over everything, so he was going to do his best to diminish it - and not pay her any sort of mind. " _But I promise,_ " He tacked on because his father was still looking at him with his flat, stony gaze. " _I will be civil._ " 

Leon nodded - one curt, brisk dip of his head - then redirected his gaze, for the umpteenth time, out over the steppe.

Kurt shifted his feet, not knowing if that was the end of the conversation and wanting to inch away - he wanted nothing more than to strip down, climb into bed, and cozy up with Jenna - but before he could start easing back, Leon cleared his throat.

" _One more thing._ "

Kurt braced himself. " _Yes?_ "

Now it was Leon's turn to shuffle his feet and absently reach up to scratch at his beard, and Kurt immediately knew that whatever was coming was something his dad was struggling to say and prepared himself for it. " _I'm proud of you._ " He said it bluntly, and in a rush, so the words tangled together.

Kurt blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. " _What_?"

Leon closed his eyes and sighed. " _I'm proud of you_ ," He repeated, speaking slower - but still in that stilted, uncomfortable tone of voice. " _I know Lana was expecting the prison reveal to be some big thing, and...truth be told, it was bit of a shock, but I know that it does not define you. Shit happens._ " He looked up at Kurt for the first time and a wry little smile played at his lips. " _Besides, you are not only one to get mixed up in legal trouble. But that's beside the point._ " Jest aside, he looked away again. He couldn't keep eye contact. " _I am proud of you for everything you have accomplished. Your business, your apartment. Getting back on your feet. But I am most proud that you are happy."_ He immediately grimaced. " _That did not come out the way I wanted it to_." 

" _I think it came out just fine,"_ Kurt managed, reeling from surprise and shock and being floored by the spiel his dad had just waxed, and feeling himself getting emotional. There was a weird fizzy bubbling feeling in his chest. " _Thank you_."

Leon only managed an embarrassed grunt, and didn't speak again, and, thankfully, that seemed to signal the end of the conversation.

Waiting until he bid his dad a goodnight before seizing the opportunity to make his getaway and slip away towards the guest shack, Kurt let loose a long, relieved exhale because, as awkward as that conversation had been, it hadn't been nearly as torturous as he had dreaded, and it had also given him the opportunity to come up with a way to deal with Lana.

And, he thought as he walked towards the shack, head still spinning, an unconscious little beam playing at his lips, his dad...was proud of him.

And that was actually pretty cool. 

* * *

"So, how much trouble did you get into?" 

Kurt chuckled and looked down at Jenna, who he had an arm curled around and who also was cozied up to him with her head resting on his shoulder and her hand tracing idle patterns on his chest underneath the layers of warm, fuzzy blankets they were swaddled in. "Not much, actually. It was not as bad as I had expected," He admitted. "He said Lana and I have to learn how to be civil." He paused, then added with a warm little grin, "And he said he was proud of me."

Jenna's grin was big, broad, and sunny. "That's awesome, babe." She kissed the line of his jaw. "And he's right. There's so much to be proud of, Korach." She smiled against his skin.

Kurt chuckled, but felt his cheeks warm all the same. "Thank you, Jenna Leigh." He turned his head to kiss her forehead, and let his lips linger there. "I love you, _soyka_ ," He said impulsively in a low murmur.

Jenna wiggled against him. "Love you, Captain Kurt," She said, pressing another sweet albeit lazy kiss to the hollow of his throat before snuggling closer. She was getting sleepy - he could tell by the beginning drowsiness inching into her voice. 

He didn't want to keep her awake - in fact, all he wanted to do was hold her and feel her warm breath tickle his skin and enjoy the comforting weight and press of her body against his - but a prickling little curiosity kept nudging at the back of his mind. " _Soyka_?"

"Mm?" She murmured against him, and the vibrations of her lips against his skin sent pleasant shivers rippling through him.

"What did you and Leon talk about?" He asked, then quickly added: "If you are comfortable sharing."

"'Course I am, silly," Jenna said, pulling away from his shoulder so she could prop her head on his chest and look at him through half-lidded hazel eyes, smiling sweetly. "We talked a lil bit 'bout Lana, but then he started askin' me questions about me and stuff. It was pretty cool." She paused, then grinned cheekily. "Though, not gonna lie, it was also kind of intimidating. Like I was being interrogated or something."

Kurt laughed at that. "He has that effect on people." He absently trailed his fingers up and down her back and shoulders and enjoyed the way she hummed in response. He considered telling her about his Lana plan, but decided to save that for the morning - her cheek was pressed against his chest and she was beginning to doze. Instead, he continued to stroke her back, and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "Good night, Jenna."

"'Night, Kurt," came her muffled, bleary response. She turned her head, kissed his chest, then rested it back on him once more.

Kurt chuckled and curled both arms around Jenna, and held her close, and, feeling her breath tickle and warm his skin and enjoying the comforting weight and press of her body against his, he closed his eyes. 


	9. Chapter 9

The next day dawned bright and early, and by the time Kurt and Jenna were able to drag themselves out of the guest house and into _dom_ Goreshter, chaos had already descended.

The entryway and living room, both of which had already been crowded with suitcases and duffel bags, had accumulated even more travel clutter - all of which was arranged in a wobbling tower backed against the wall for some semblance of structural integrity. Paired with Nadine’s boys taking up most of the living room floor, Sonja curled up in the armchair and looking impossibly tiny underneath an enormous quilt, Ana bustling back and forth to and from the kitchen, Leon doing his best to stand against a wall and out of the way but his bulk still swallowed considerable space, Dima shuffling out of the hallway with a book tucked under his arm and his attention directed on his phone, Lana frequently emerging from the kitchen to pick her way to her baggage to fish for something before returning to ‘assist’ her mother, and the two new fresh faces hanging around, the whole small shack of a home seemed filled to the brim with people and ready to pop.

One of the fresh faces turned to face Kurt and Jenna, both of whom were standing in the doorway - Kurt had needed just a moment to take everything in and also consider whether or not they would be able to slip away from the scene unnoticed because wow it was a lot - and Kurt instinctively, reflexively offered up a cordial smile. 

“ _There he is!”_ Kurt’s Uncle Alexander - the spitting image of Anastasia, minus his dark brown hair that was thrown up in a loose bun on top of his head and a squarer face - grinned and crossed the room in a few lengthy strides, hand already extended before him. Dressed in baggy cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a long-sleeved navy blue t-shirt over which he had layered a necklace made of various sizes of beads, all of which clattered considerably with every movement, he looked more like a surfer dude from California than he did a crafting shop owner from Siberia. “ _The prodigal nephew has returned!”_

Kurt answered with a polite chuckle and gave his uncle a quick, firm shake. “ _Hi, Uncle Andy.”_

Andy grinned, clasped Kurt’s hand in both of his own, then angled his side to the side, giving him a once-over. “ _Let me take a look at you. I haven’t seen you in years, kid!_ ” 

“ _Yes, well_ …” Kurt shifted his feet, uncomfortable under his scrutiny - and the observation. There’d been a reason for that. “ _I’m not a kid anymore._ ” He offered lightly, smiling - still awkwardly.

“ _That you are not. You’re a grown-ass adult,_ ” Andy said, still grinning, and then his gaze slid to Jenna and his eyebrows rose. “ _And who’s this lovely lass?”_

Kurt switched. “Jenna, my girlfriend. Jenna, this is my uncle Alexander.”

Andy blinked, caught the drift, then turned to Jenna, offered her a warm smile, and curtsied. “Pleasure’s all mine, Jenna.” He straightened, extended his hand, and she shook it, returning his infectious grin. 

“Nice to meet you, Alexander.” 

Andy waved her off. “Nah. No need for formalities. You can call me Andy. Or Alec. Or Xander. Or Ally. Take your pick.” 

“Alright,” Jenna said with a light laugh. “Andy, then. Nice to meet you.”

Andy launched a volley of catch-up questions at them - where they’d been, how they’d met, what their jobs were, etc, etc, etc - and responded with spiels of his own (he’d packed up his homefront shop and moved to Canada, where business had started booming for him - evidently - and was working on mastering French in the midst of falling head-over-heels in love seemingly every month), but in the middle of a long-winded tale about his shop being burgled a few weeks back, Ana popped her head out of the kitchen and pointed a wooden spoon in his direction. “Hey, Ally,” She called - then quickly wrinkled her nose warmly at Kurt and Jenna in greeting. “You’re not bothering my kid, are you?”

Andy snorted and shook his head. “No, not at all. Just catching up! It’s been awhile.” He clapped Kurt’s shoulder and grinned. 

“Alright, well, when you are finished with that, could you do me favor and run to store to pick up few things for lunch? I need to stay here and watch the oven, make sure _ptichye moloko_ does not burn.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t trust me to do that?”

“Nope,” Ana said, popping her lips and giving him a grin. “I am very specific about my cakes.” She waggled the spoon at him. “You should know that.” Then she turned to Leon, who was still just awkwardly standing there. “ _Lev,_ would you mind going with him? Just to make sure he sticks to the list? Does not come back with everything from clearance aisle?” She shot another pointed look at Andy. 

Andy snorted again. “Hey, I’m not that bad -”

Nadine, passing by, laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Dad, but - yes, you ARE that bad.”

Andy turned to look at her. “And whose side are you on?” 

“Aunt Tasia’s.”

Anastasia just grinned. “See? I make solid point.” She looked at her husband again, flashing her warm, dark eyes at him. “What do you say, Leon?”

Leon looked at her, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Sure.” He straightened from the wall, bent to murmur something in her ear, and she laughed and patted his chest before rising onto her tiptoes to plant a light kiss on his bristly cheek before calling out a “Thank you both” and vanishing back into the kitchen.

“Alrighty, then,” Andy declared, unperturbed by his sister siccing her husband on him for glorified babysitting duty. “C’mon, you big ol’ bastard. Let’s do this thing.” 

Leon said nothing - only rolled his eyes upwards - and gave Kurt and Jenna a brusque nod before sidling past them and out the door briskly, leaving Andy to drop a smile and a “nice seeing you and nice meeting you” in his wake before following suit. 

The relative silence that followed their departure seemed enormous, and Kurt didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it came falling out in a sigh. It was short-lived, though, for then he caught sight of his second cousin meandering down the hallway towards them.

Nadia Goreshter was shorter and stockier than her sister, with much more conservative tastes in fashion - dressed down in a black blouse with an unbuttoned purple flannel thrown over it, white shorts, and high-topped white sneakers, she was the antithesis of Nadine's wildly vibrant color palette. Her hair - a very light, dusty brown with one fading streak of teal winding through it - was tossed back and up in a high, loose, casual pony, and her face - diamond-shaped - was marked by a faded scar descending from the point of an eyebrow to the middle of her cheek, past her light blue eyes. She saw Kurt and broke into a grin. " _Korach_ ," She greeted, closing the gap between them so she could bump her knuckles against his. " _Long time no see_."

Kurt smiled and returned the sentiment, then introduced Jenna, and slipped into an easy, familiar pattern of light, casual chatter with his cousin. She'd been holed up in Maine for the past few years, and had followed in the footsteps of her adopted father by becoming a business-owner (a successful one, at that; there was an unexpected market for novelty ice cream parlors in Lewiston, apparently). 

They were still chatting when Ana poked her head through the tapestry of the kitchen and called for Jenna, asking to borrow her taste buds for a moment - and Jenna, with a parting squeeze of Kurt's hand, eagerly escaped to a kitchen undoubtedly filled with goodies and smelling of baked heaven. 

" _It's been so long since I've seen everyone that I don't even know what to do with myself_." Nadia remarked in a low murmur as she moved to the wall so she could lean against it, hook her thumbs in the belt loops of her shorts, and watch her nephews playing amidst a mess of Hot Wheels on the floor. 

" _Me, neither_ ," Kurt admitted.

" _And I feel bad, like maybe I should've called or visited earlier or something, but..."_ She trailed off, frowning into nothingness.

Kurt nodded, but rolled the point around in his head. " _Maybe, but...there's nothing you can do about it now."_ He shrugged when she looked at him. _"And it doesn't mean you're a bad person or family member or whatever. Part of growing up is detaching."_ And then deciding when, where, and what to reattach to - and how. In his humble opinion, anyways. He told her that, and she mulled that over.

" _I guess you're right."_

_"You guess?"_ Kurt teased to lighten some of the tension.

Nadia shot him a dry look. " _Oh, god. You're starting to sound like your sister_."

Kurt's nose immediately wrinkled and his smile soured, and Nadia laughed. " _I do not take that as compliment_ ," He muttered, and she snorted again.

" _Who's in fine form, by the way_ ," She tacked on, and Kurt listened as she told him about how, earlier that morning, she'd been sleeping on the floor of the room she, Nadine, Lana, and Dima had all been crammed into, and Lana had gotten up to slip into the hall to use the bathroom and had stepped on her hand and when Nadia had grumbled at her to watch where she was going, she had snapped back to watch where she was sleeping, and throughout the whole spiel, Kurt had to fight back the monstrous urge to let his eyes roll all the way back in his head and utter the world's most exasperated - and dramatic, admittedly - sigh. 

" _That sounds like her_ ," he said dourly when Nadia was finished and then, with a crooked grin, told her that he had commenced Operation: Ignore Lana, and she laughed and said that sounded like a great idea to her and she might have to get in on that, and Kurt smiled and said the more the merrier, and then they lapsed into a comfortable silence and just watched Felix, Ruslan, and Ilia race their cars around and beg for Sonja to be the judge - she who had surrendered the opportunity for a nap a long time ago and instead just sighed, settled back in her seat, tugged her fuzzy quilt tighter around her, and watch with eyes that were as sharp as they had been forty years ago.

* * *

Figuring out how to fit everyone in the house so they could all eat had gotten even trickier with Andy and Nadia's presence, so Leon went right back out to buy one of those long plastic tables they could fit in the hallway. Everyone had to cram together and elbows and knees were constantly bumping, but they all were able to sit and chow down on the sandwiches - so it worked. 

As they jawed their way through lunch, conversations (in English, Russian, and the occasional bit of French, provided by Andy) sparked here and there - amidst individuals, the larger group, etc - and Kurt didn't really notice them, too wrapped up in enjoying his own meal and exchanging occasional glances with Jenna, until his mother called his name.

Kurt looked down to where she sat by Sonja at the head of the table, sandwich halfway to his mouth, and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "I'm sorry. What?" He said because he really hadn't been paying attention - oops - and then slowly took a bite. 

Anastasia smiled. "I was talking with Nadine about her boys, and got to thinking that it would be nice to have some grandbabies soon."

Kurt choked on his bite of sandwich and Dima abruptly started coughing - having taken a sharp intake of breath and promptly inhaling the beer he'd been nursing. Lana just rolled her eyes and muttered "idiots" under her breath. 

Ana laughed and shook her head. "Do not take it the wrong way," She assured them. "It was just a thought. But now I am wondering if it is something on the table - we're not getting any younger, after all." She patted Leon's hand. 

Kurt tried to choke down the hunk of meat and cheese that had lodged in his throat, which unfortunately thrust Dima into the spotlight of Ana's attention. He squirmed in his seat, looking uncomfortable, but Lana swooped in for him. "Don't think it's gonna happen with him, Mom. He's too busy being married to his job. Can't exactly procreate with that."

Dima glared at her. 

(Luckily, Nadine's boys had swallowed their food in seemingly a handful of eager gulps and had gone gallivanting in the backyard, sparing their ears the torture of that conversation.)

Lana continued, ignorant of Dima's icy scowl. "And I can tell you with 100% confidence that it's not going to happen with me." She sat back in her chair, folded her arms over her chest, and shrugged. "Really not interested in bearing any little brats." 

Nadine rolled her eyes. "Not all children are brats, Lana."

"Point still stands," she returned.

Ana nodded. "Which is perfectly fine and I am happy for you," She said, smiling at her daughter. "But, like I said, I'm just...curious."

And now her gaze swung to Kurt, who was suddenly hyperaware of the eyes on him and felt like his skin was beginning to burn. 

He looked over at Jenna, who just sipped on her can of soda - though her face, too, had turned a flushed, rosy red. 

"We have not...talked about it yet," Kurt said finally after the silence had spun out for far too long. "I think there are other things we would like to do first before we get to....that." He winced. It sounded crass, but - well, it was the truth. There'd been no pressure or stress in his and Jenna's relationship - they were perfectly happy with the way things were and simply being together. They were living together, and dating, and Kurt was already putting the wheels of proposing into motion, but...suddenly it was glaringly obvious that there were a lot of things that they had not talked about.

Including having children. 

"Yeah," Jenna chimed in, and he looked at her, the relief heavy and evident on his face. "I mean, we've both got our jobs, and I think traveling would be fun and stuff, and...you know. I think we're just going with the flow at the moment. But...maybe one day." She smiled at him and slipped her hand under the table to rest it on his thigh and give it a squeeze - he curled his fingers over hers and returned it. 

That seemed to be answer enough, for the conversation quickly steered away from the point at hand and moved onto broader subjects. At some point, the idea of relationships came up - mostly with Ana teasing Andy about his latest partner that had turned into him talking about his struggle to find the love of his life (of which, gauging by the familiar way Ana laughed and smiled and shook her head, there seemed to be a lot of), and then the question swept around the table.

(Andy was looking, Nadine was not and uninterested - her boys were her lifetime commitment and she was perfectly content the way things were - Nadia had a boyfriend back in Maine, Lana shook her head but smiled a secret little smile, and Dima just grunted and took a swig of his beer.) 

And then, once people were winding down their meals and plates were beginning to clear, Kurt took his chance. He leaned over to murmur in Jenna's ear that he'd be back, excused himself, and left not only the table, but the house, quickly trotting down the steps and veering around the side to head to the guest shack because he was in dire need of some air and some space.

* * *

"Hey," Jenna said gently as she tugged open the door to the guest house and poked her head inside. "You want some company?"

Kurt, sitting on the bed with his back to the headboard and legs sticking out in front of him and hands gathered loosely in his lap, looked up and smiled. "Yours? Always."

Jenna grinned, slid into the room, and closed the door behind her, but the smile softened as she approached and clambered onto the bed. "How're you doing? You okay?"

Kurt thought about it, then nodded. He was feeling better - now that he'd escaped the stuffiness and sensation of being smothered and was no longer cramped, he was a touch more at ease. "Yes," he answered. "I think so."

"Good." Jenna shimmied close to him and rested her head on his shoulder, and he turned his face so he could drop a kiss to her temple. "And how're you feeling about lunch? That, uh, was...interesting."

Despite the intense feelings of discomfort that had washed over him at the time, Kurt recalled, and chuckled. "It was." 

"I know your mom means well," Jenna said, putting a hand on his thigh again, and he took it so he could entangle their fingers together. "But that was kind of a...big question."

Kurt nodded, then looked down at her, concern sparking in his eyes. "You...do not feel..." He fumbled for the right word. "Pressured, though?"

Jenna looked up at him. "What, to pop out some children?"

He nodded - though color had once more risen in his cheeks.

She laughed. "No. Not at all. I think it came from a place of simply wanting to know - not trying to force it on us."

"True." Kurt considered. "And she definitely reminded me that we have lot to talk about."

"Like the other things you mentioned."

"On top of what she asked about? Yes."

Jenna rested her head on his shoulder, and Kurt leaned his head on top of hers, and for a moment or two, they just sat there - in blissful silence, comfort, and privacy. She absently twiddled with one of the rings on his fingers, spinning it around and around - and he chuckled because the habit was one of his very own. 

"Do you feel pressured?" She asked suddenly.

"No," Kurt answered truthfully, after a moment of pondering. "It is our lives, and our choice, and...we get to decide if and when these things happen for us."

"Mmm." Jenna nodded, but then pulled away and looked at him. "That's true, too, but also not even pertaining to the whole baby thing. But about...other things, I guess. Like...adult relationship things. Getting a house, getting married, yadda, yadda, yadda."

Kurt thought about it. "No," He said again. "I think same answer applies there, too. It is our decision." 

Jenna smiled. "I like that word. 'Our.'"

Kurt chuckled. "Our," He repeated, then kissed her temple again. 

A silence descended once more - a comfortable one, during which Kurt felt he could've fallen asleep - but then a thought struck him and he looked at Jenna. "We...should talk about these things, right?"

"Yeah," Jenna answered, nodding. "But only on our time and our agenda."

Kurt considered, but Jenna spoke before he could - straightening once more and pulling away from him so she could turn her whole body to look at him. She folded her legs under her criss-cross-style, with his hand still clasped between both of hers. "You think now's a good time?" She blurted, then grimaced. "I didn't mean that in a 'we should talk about this RIGHT NOW' kind of way, it was more or less just a.....question," She floundered.

Kurt smiled at her. God, he loved her. "I know." He thought about it, and thought about how he was on the threshold of proposing. "I think we have perfect opportunity to talk about it now, but we do not have to."

"The great thing about life is that we don't have to do anything we don't want to." Jenna flashed him a grin.

Kurt chuckled and straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the headboard. "I think now is good time, then." Now that they were alone, and beyond the scrutiny of his family, and not blindsided by prompting questions - yeah. He was...ready.

"Okay," Jenna said a little breathlessly, and he looked at her, concerned.

"We don't have to if you do not want to," He said. 

She shook her head. "It's not that; I do. I do want to. I just..." She looked down at their entangled hands, then back up at him. "I'm...excited, you know?"

Kurt blinked.

"For the future." She ran her thumb over his knuckles and grinned sheepishly. "Our future."

Kurt smiled softly and tenderly and scooted closer to her so he could use his other hand to gently knuckle her chin up. "Me, too," He murmured before pressing his lips to hers, his eyes fluttering shut. He pulled away - but only an inch. Their foreheads grazed. "Our," He repeated, and then she snaked a hand up, curled her fingers around the nape of his neck, and pulled him to her for another kiss. 

A few impassioned moments later, they broke apart. "Let's put that on pause," Jenna suggested, her face flushed and grin suggestive. "So we can actually talk a little bit about this whole future thing."

Kurt pulled away and nodded, smiling. "Okay."

"Okay." 

They looked at each other for a moment - and then grinned.

"Okay," Jenna said. "Future stuff. Let's start with...kind of an easy one. We're already living together."

"That we are."

"In an apartment, though. A house..." Jenna trailed off, pursing her lips. "What do you think?"

"I think," Kurt said. "If we can find place that becomes home for both of us, place we can make our own...then it doesn't matter to me if it is actual physical house or not." 

Jenna nodded. "Very true. I think I would like to have a house, though. A place with multiple rooms. And space." Her eyes lit up. "And it's the kind of thing where, the first night we move in, we have to sleep in the living room on a mattress because nothing's been moved over and the whole place isn't furnished yet." 

Kurt watched her and smiled warmly at the very specific image she conjured up. "That sounds...great. I would like that."

"Yeah?" Jenna grinned.

Kurt squeezed her hand. "Yeah."

"House it is," Jenna teased, and leaned in to lightly kiss the bridge of his nose. 

Kurt hummed and slid an arm around her, holding her close - almost in his lap.

Which spurred her to take matters into her own hands - she unfolded her legs, rose, and sidled over so she could plop herself down in his lap. He chuckled and drew both arms around her and pressed a light kiss to the side of her neck as she draped an arm around his shoulders. He liked this - this entanglement was always very nice. And very warm. And, above all, it made his heart happy to be with her like this. 

"Next step," Jenna said. "Before you distract me and make me want to do some very naughty things right here, right now."

Kurt grinned against her skin. "Oh," He said, feigning innocence. "Is this distracting?" He let his lips glide over the surface of her neck.

A pleasant shiver rippled through her. "Very."

"Pardon me." Kurt pulled away and flashed her a cheeky smirk. "I guess I better stop."

"Pause," Jenna corrected, grinning, tapping her index finger playfully against his mouth. "Hold that thought. We'll get back to it soon."

Kurt chuckled and gave her a playful squeeze. "You were saying about next step?"

"That would probably be marriage."

Kurt closed his eyes and smiled. "Definitely."

"Definitely as in 'that's definitely the next step' or 'that's definitely something I want to do'?" 

"Both." When he opened his eyes, Jenna was blushing - and that made him grin his patented Jenna Smile. "Definitely both."

"Me, too," She said, then grinned. "Marrying you is definitely something I very much want to do." Mischief flickered in her eyes and she leaned in close to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Marry you," She said, and then let her lips follow the curve of his jaw. "Make you my husband." Her lips slid lower and Kurt shivered. "Become your wife." 

"Now it's you who is being distracting," Kurt said - with a noticeable thickness in his voice.

"Oh." Jenna grinned and pulled back. "Pardon me. I guess I better stop," She teased. 

Kurt just laughed before nuzzling in close again. "But marriage. Definite yes." He paused. "And before we move onto next step..." He pulled away and looked at her earnestly. "I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to this part. I can't wait." 

Jenna pressed a hand against her chest and gasped. "Is this a proposal?"

Kurt snorted laughter and shook his head. "No." Then he smirked. "Not yet." Soon enough, though. Then again...would soon enough really be soon enough? He didn't think so. He'd said he couldn't wait to marry her - and that was the truth. But he'd have to. "But anyways. Next step."

"Which..." She paused. "Would probably be...babies."

He nodded. "Having children."

They said nothing and only looked at each other.

He asked her the question first. "Do you want to have children?"

Jenna thought about it, biting her lower lip as she mused. "I think," she said finally. "I do." 

"You do?"

"I do." Jenna grinned. "An important two words in another aspect of life."

Kurt chuckled. She wasn't wrong. And god, he couldn't wait to hear her say them - and he couldn't wait to say them to her. 

"And what about you, Mr. Goreshter?" Jenna rocked her head to the side. "Do you want to have kids?"

Kurt had...never really thought about it before. It just hadn't been something that had ever really crossed his mind, but now...with the future unraveling before them, a future just three years ago he would have never believed he would have, a future he couldn't wait for and anticipated eagerly....and the thought of being a father to Jenna's children, of parenting with her, of experiencing bringing new life into the world with her...it was a very large subject to grasp.

And one he did with surprising ease. "Yes," He said, the word slipping from his mouth with surprising confidence. "I do. Because the thought of having them with you..." He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to put into words just how massive the concept was. He forced himself to find words that would come close. "Is the best thought." 

Jenna grinned. "You read my mind," she murmured, leaning in close, tipping his head up, letting her lips barely graze his - teasing his mouth but not quite kissing it. 

Kurt hummed and held her tighter. 

"Well, now that that's all settled," she teased. "House, marriage, kids, the whole shebang..."

Kurt chuckled against her skin and marveled at the fact that they really had just talked about their future and had begun constructing it - in loose sketches, of course, but it was beginning all the same and the thought thrilled him like nothing else ever had. "Now we can get distracted?" He joked right back.

"Well, that's one way to look at it. Or you can see it as practice."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Practice?"

Jenna said nothing - only took a hand and guided it to her flat stomach, and when he caught her drift, he felt his cheeks blaze red-hot. "Oh."

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to kiss him. "Yeah," She murmured, laughing into the kiss, and her good spirit ignited mirth in him and he responded with a grin of his own before quickly - and deftly - switching their positions so she was sprawled on the bed and he hovered over her. 

And, looking at her, with one of his hands cupping her face, suddenly - nothing else mattered. Not the fact that he was here, not the issues he had been grappling with, not his siblings, not embarrassment, nothing but the moment.

With her.

"I love you," Kurt murmured, voice thick and throaty with emotion: desire, love, want, need, lust. 

"I love you," Jenna returned, touching his face, fingers caressing his cheeks, smiling. 

And then he kissed her, and no longer did they need words to express themselves. 


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt sat on the patchwork sofa in the living room of _dom_ Goreshter on his and Jenna's third or fourth day in Russia (he'd lost track of the specifics; time had a real funny way of warping like that). He watched as his cousins played on the floor, Felix and Ruslan engaged in a serious bout of Monopoly while Ilia sat spectating, bobbing his head to the music drifting from the bulky headphones looped around his neck. He listened to the soft, rumbling snores of his grandmother, who was tucked in the armchair and wrapped cozily in a considerably puffy comforter, looking dangerously skeletal. He caught occasional snatches of the debate Dima and Andy were locked in (something about the merits and philosophies of Tolstoy versus Dostoevsky). He heard Nadine fumbling around somewhere deeper in the house, and, when he directed his gaze to one of the windows bracketing the front door, saw the silhouette of his father bookended by Nadia and Lana. From the kitchen came the scent of warm, freshly-baked goods and quiet chatter as Ana baked and Jenna taste-tested and they conversed. 

He sat in this pocket of peace and marveled.

Not only had the trip been relatively smooth and painless - minus a few emotional hiccups and other disasters orchestrated by his sister - but it had very much contradicted his expectations through the roof and beyond. When Lana had first called him, he had expected nothing but cold tension, stiff awkwardness, uncomfortable rigidity, as that was the traditional Goreshter way, but...here he was, sitting in a house that was, for the first time in his life, rife with warmth. 

It was a new feeling, one he was still trying to wrap his head around. His guard was still up, of course; he was still cautious, still wary, still ready to flee at any moment because of the memories that clung to him like cobwebs, but the anvil of anxiety resting on his chest had been chiseled down to a brick nevertheless. 

And that certainly was something. 

Anastasia popped out of the kitchen, barefoot (as per her form) and dressed comfortably in dark blue jeans and an off-the-shoulder blue sweater. Jenna followed suit, looking equally cozy in jeans, a minty pastel-green blouse, and Kurt's jacket that she had nabbed from him earlier because she had woken up an icicle. With a cookie in hand, she rounded the couch and dropped herself down onto it, scooting next to Kurt. He greeted her with a warm smile and, when she split her cookie in two and offered him a half, he accepted it with a chuckle and a kiss to her temple. 

" _You know what we should do today?"_ Ana addressed the room, hands on her hips.

Sonja shifted in her armchair, reluctantly swimming into consciousness with a begrudging grunt. " _Leave me alone so I can die in peace?"_

Andy's head snapped up from the passage Dima was showing him (because Kurt's brother had been so driven to make his point that he had actually retrieved a book from his travel bag and Kurt bit back a smile and thought _nerd_ with something akin to fondness - a thought that, had he actually considered it, would have surprised him in its earnestness). His look of genuine befuddlement twinned Ana's incredulity. " _Mom!"_ they both blurted in protesting synchronicity. 

Sonja snorted derisively. " _What? It was just a joke. Good lord."_ She shook her head. " _Mara would've appreciated it,"_ she muttered dourly under her breath.

" _Anyways,"_ Anastasia said quickly, eyeballing her mother before moving on. " _I know it's been getting a little bit cramped and stuffy in here, so I thought it would be a good idea for us all to get out and get some air and space."_

Sonja stirred again, fighting to sit up. She craned her neck around to look at her daughter, wrinkled brow furrowed knowingly. " _You're talking about the watering hole, aren't you?"_

Ana grinned brightly. " _Yep."_

_"Watering hole?"_ Ruslan looked up and missed Felix landing on one of his properties with a hotel on it and putting his index finger to his lips to tell Ilia to shush (he who just acquiesced with a shrug). " _What's that_?" 

_"Well, it's not technically a watering hole in the 'proper' sense of the word, I suppose, but that's just what we've always called it,"_ Ana answered. 

" _Okay, sure, but what is it?"_ Ruslan asked impatiently and Nadine, who had emerged from the hallway, gave him a gentle nudge with her foot to remind him to maintain some semblance of decorum. 

" _What is what?"_ The front door popped open and in sashayed Lana, tailed by Leon and Nadia. The faint tang of smoke swirled around them and puffed into the room.

Jenna leaned into Kurt's side as Sonja told her grandchildren and great-grandchildren about the massive swimming hole somewhere in the woods behind the house, and asked what they were talking about. He curled an arm around her shoulders, pressed his lips to her ear, and translated in a low murmur. 

Lana listened to Sonja, then frowned. " _So you're telling me that we've had an enormous swimming pool in our backyard this whole time and we never knew about it?"_ She considered, pursed her lips, then amended: " _More importance distinction:_ ** _I_** _never knew about it? Why?"_

Leon crossed the room to join his wife, slipping an arm around her waist. She hummed and playfully bumped his shoulder with her head, then looked at her daughter. " _Because, for one, I only knew about it because it was your father and I's date spot when we were younger. And when we settled down and got older and had you three, it just...slipped our minds. That, and it would have been too dangerous to tell you, because I **know** you would've snuck out there at some point and put yourself - and probably your friends - at risk."_

Lana folded her arms over her chest and scoffed indignantly. " _No, I totally wouldn't have."_

Ana shot her daughter a pointed, knowing look.

Lana pursed her lips again, then relented with a sigh and a muttered " _alright, fine, I totally would've."_

_"Thought so."_ Ana chuckled, then looked up at Leon. " _Do you remember that, lev? You took me there on our third date."_

Leon smiled warmly and gave his wife a gentle squeeze. " _I do. I did._

" _That was a really good date."_ Anastasia's eyes sparkled with warm recollection as she curled an arm around her husband's burly torso and squeezed, resting her head on his chest. 

" _Why didn't you tell me about it?"_ Andy feigned annoyance. " _I could've had so many really good dates there, too. It sounds romantic as hell."_

Ana rolled her eyes. " _Too bad,"_ she teased. " _It was our spot. And, besides, I doubt anyone would've actually gone there with you anyways."_ She grinned wickedly when Andy gasped and clapped a hand to his heart, continuing to fake injury and insult, and childishly poked her tongue out at him. 

" _Okay,"_ Sonja said with a sigh and both of her children immediately fell silent, their instinctive obedience from years upon years upon years of being son and daughter to their unstoppable force of a mother kicking in promptly. 

Kurt bit back a grin. Seeing his mom and uncle revert right back to being children - that was interesting. And funny. 

_"Enough of that. We're going to the watering hole,"_ Sonja stated matter-of-factly, leaving no room for question or doubt.

Andy questioned anyways. "' _We'? Are you sure you're up for -"_

Sonja leveled him with a flat, dry glare. " _Xander. You do not get to tell me whether or not I am up for anything. I'm going. That's that."_

Andy acquiesced, holding his hands up placatingly. 

" _Count me out. I want to call Ben."_ Nadia fished her phone out of her pocket and glanced at it. 

_"Count me in!"_ Ruslan sprang to his feet, a veritable ball of excited energy. " _It sounds like the coolest thing ever!"_

Nadine, leaning against the wall, chuckled and smiled warmly at her fireball of a son. Felix dismissed Monopoly and rose to his feet to join his brother. Ilia looked hesitant - which, at this point, Kurt took to be his default, his trademark; he had much more of a calming, quieter, timid presence than either of his brothers did. 

_"Well, that's settled! Watering hole it is."_ Ana clapped her hands together excitedly - and then an idea struck her. " _And I can bring the leftover sandwiches from yesterday, so we can have a picnic, too."_

_"I don't know about that_ ," Andy said with a roguish grin. " _There's a reason nobody ate them, Tasia."_

Ana rolled her eyes and flapped a dismissive hand in his direction - he just laughed - and then said they should "get this show on the road," and so the Goreshter household dissolved into bustle as they did just that.

* * *

An hour and a half-mile trek across the steppe later, the Goreshter family - minus Nadia, who, at Andy's bequest, had promised to join them later - walked through the heart of the woods and emerged into a massive clearing that, sure enough, housed an enormous natural pool. The waters were a crisp, clear, bubbling blue, and the earthy tones of the undergrowth and shrubs and bushes and trees that bordered the pool rippled reflectively. Overhead, the canopy was thick (the trees grew tall and towards one another), but bursts and beams of sunlight broke through in spots and patches, making the water sparkle with bright white flashes and winks. On the opposite end of the bank was a flat boulder angled outwards, rooted in the grass and stretching out into the water, forming a natural dock.

"Wow!" Ruslan exclaimed, mouth hanging ajar. Felix mirrored his amazement. 

As did Kurt. He was floored. 

“ _ Set me down on that rock over there,”  _ Sonja ordered Leon. She had initially insisted on walking from the house to the woods, but Ana’s persistence - and her own age-and-disease-inspired weariness - had rendered it a lost fight. She had settled instead for allowing Leon to give her a piggyback ride. There was no shame or loss of dignity in the gesture, though.

Leon grunted acquiescence and hobbled off towards said rock. 

The Goreshter family scattered: Ruslan and Felix booked it towards the water until their mom cleared her throat and had them help her and Ana and Ilia organize their necessities (towels, a cooler for drinks, a plastic bag stuffed with sandwiches, a tote with sunscreen and sunglasses - just in case); Andy walked around the pool, admiring it, before yanking off his shirt, tossing it aside, and leaping heartily into the waters with a loud, boyish hoot; Dima found a nice grassy spot a few feet away from the pool where he could sit on his blanket and curl up with his current read; Lana threw her hair up in a ponytail and, like Andy, patrolled the pool, but had no intention of getting in it and instead was trying to seek out the best patch of sunlight. 

Kurt and Jenna stood by the pool and watched as Felix and Ruslan rushed through helping their mom and great-aunt so they could scramble away to join their grandpa in the water, both of them leaping into it with reckless abandon and gleeful hollers and shouts.

Jenna laughed and rested her head on Kurt's shoulder. "They're very gung-ho."

Kurt chuckled. "That they are." He looked out across the watering hole and watched his father help settle his grandmother on the broad flat rock before limping back to join Anastasia. He glanced down at his girlfriend. "What do you think? Do you want to join them?"

Jenna looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll just spectate. I haven't totally thawed out yet." As if to demonstrate her point, she shivered and pulled Kurt's jacket tighter around her. 

Kurt grinned. "I'm surprised, _soyka._ You are normally such a polar bear," he teased, giving her a lighthearted, gentle squeeze. 

Jenna snorted laughter and shook her head. "Yeah, right."

"My _polyarnyy medved',"_ Kurt said, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. 

"What's that mean?"

"Polar bear."

"Oh." Jenna smiled sheepishly. "Probably could've figured that out." She drew an arm around him. He responded by playfully tweaking at the collar of her jacket. She looked up at him with her trademark goofy smile. Caught up in a sudden whirlwind of dizzying love and the softness of her hazel gaze, he bent to brush his lips against hers.

"Hey, hey, hey! Keep it PG, you two!" Andy called from the water, successfully interrupting their little cloud of romance and breaking their kiss.

Jenna laughed and buried her face in his chest. Kurt huffed a sigh, but a smile twitched at his lips all the same. 

* * *

They spent the rest of the day holed up at the pool. Sonja reclined on the rock - occasionally chastising rampant splashers (with a biting edge to her voice that she softened with a playful wink). Ana helped Leon remove his brace so he could slip into the water and relieve some of the pressure and stress put on his damaged leg. Felix and Ruslan splashed around playing Marco Polo with Andy. Nadine - and the belated Nadia - lounged on a stony outcropping in the shallow part of the hole that served as a makeshift bench. Dima sat on his folded blanket, reading away. Lana stretched out in a patch of grass, soaking in what sun she could. 

Kurt and Jenna sat on the lip of the watering hole. Kurt, who didn't necessarily want to go swimming, rolled up the cuffs of his jeans so he could dip his feet in the water - which was cool, but not frosty - and Jenna sat criss-cross beside him. 

"Hey, what's Dima doing?" Jenna leaned over to murmur inquisitively, and Kurt took his eyes off of the beautiful bubbling water to look at his brother, who was watching Ruslan play the Fish-Out-of-Water card and scrambling out of the pool. Dima jerked his head - 'c'mere' - and an inquisitive Ruslan, intrigued, ignored his grandpa calling out and headed towards him. Kurt watched, amused and curious, as Dima slid his wallet out of his pocket, beckoned for Ruslan to come closer still, then muttered something to him and jerked his head again - but in Lana's general vicinity. Ruslan considered, snatched the money Dima offered, then bobbed his head eagerly. 

Kurt, catching the drift, couldn't help his huge grin. "I think he is getting in spirit of things." He chuckled and watched Ruslan scamper over to Felix to pass on the message about whatever task Dima had paid him to carry out. 

Jenna watched Felix nod and leap out of the pool - both boys leaving their grandpa to flounder in the water, now playing Marco Polo by himself (until Nadine and Nadia joined in to spare their father the indignity of flailing around and calling out to no one) - and then call for Lana. He claimed to have found her lost sunglasses packed away in one of the totes they had brought, and delighted that the hefty amount of money she had spent hadn't gone to waste, she got up, stretched briefly, then started to head around the pool. Ruslan slipped the opposite direction, hiding first behind his mom, and then the rock Sonja was perched on, and then came up quickly behind Lana on stealthy feet. 

"Oooh," Jenna said quietly, breathily, in humored realization. "I get it now."

Kurt watched the scene unfold with a grin - he listened as Lana rambled about those sunglasses and how they were a damn fine pair and burst into laughter when Ruslan rushed her, bumped into her legs, and sent her, flailing and screaming, into the pool with a loud splash. 

" _Oh my god!"_ Lana erupted through the surface, soaked and sputtering - and seething. " _What the hell is WRONG with you, you absolute brat?"_ She spat at Ruslan. 

Nadine fought to speak amidst her gales of laughter. " _Lana, chill out -"_

_"No, I will most certainly NOT 'chill out!'"_ She paddled to the edge of the pool - Ruslan immediately ran - and clawed her way up and out of the water like an aquaphobic cat that had just been unceremoniously dumped into a bathtub. " _What the actual fu-"_

"Lana," Ana said quickly and sharply. " _I know you are angry, but please - watch your language."_

Lana scowled darkly, a veritable thunderstorm of rage, and then whirled on Kurt, furious, eyes sparking with awareness and fury. " _Did you put him up to that?"_

Kurt immediately held up both of his hands - one of which was holding Jenna's - and did his best to stamp out his expression of pure delight that only a sibling seeing another sibling receive a form of comeuppance could wear. " _No, was not me."_

Lana's face fell blank for a moment - and then a cold, icy anger came sweeping back and she turned on her heel to look across the way at Dima, who was innocently reading his book. " _It was YOU."_

Dima looked up and blinked. " _What was me?"_

Her lips curled over her teeth and she growled, releasing Kurt from her intense glare and turning her focus on her other "idiot" of a brother instead. " _You got him to push me in the pool, you son of a bitch."_

Dima's small impish smile betrayed him, but he continued to needle her. Kurt remembered how Lana would drag Dima around and rope him into her hijinks and unleash all of her obnoxiousness on him to no end, and couldn't help but grin at the fact that the Student had now become the Teacher. " _Are you implying, dear sister, that my wonderful and lovely mother - who is your wonderful and lovely mother as well - is a bitch?"_

Ana fetched a weary sigh. "Dima _, you know that is not what she meant._ Lana, _please do not kill your brother. And I am going to say this one last time: please, both of you - watch your mouths."_

Lana gaped. " _But he -"_

_"_ Lana." Leon spoke and Lana fell into a fuming silence. "Dima. _You are both adults, yes_?" 

"Yes." Lana cut her glare Dima's way.

Dima ignored her and only nodded. 

" _Then act like it."_

A tense silence rippled through the clearing - then Lana huffed and pulled her sopping hair back and muttered something about going home because Dima was an insufferable asshole. 

"Lana _!"_ Ana said in exasperation at the same moment Dima muttered, " _Takes one to know one."_

Kurt stayed silent. Now this - was all too familiar.

Lana stalked off, grumbling all the way. 

"Well, that was...an event," Jenna observed quietly as the wave of tension receded. 

Kurt chuckled. "With Lana, everything is event." 


	11. Chapter 11

The Goreshter family returned home after a very long and a mostly very blissful day. 

Lana's stuff was gone, to no one's surprise—Anastasia and Leon knew their daughter had most likely retreated to a hotel in the city to snag some much-needed privacy and alone time, and Kurt and Dima were just grateful to be out of the shadow of her tyranny for the time being.

Ladened with tote bags and towels and coolers, the Goreshters shuffled into the house and scattered. Nadine, Nadia, and Andy set off to unpack and put everything away, with the latter promising Ruslan and Felix and Ilia that afterwards he would join them in a game of UNO (but warning them to brace themselves, for he took no prisoners and the dreaded Draw 4 card always seemed to wind up in his hand, drawn there like a magnet to a . . . magnet, he finished lamely). Dima muttered an exhausted good night to his parents and grandmother—she who had settled herself into her armchair once more, drawing her quilt back around her and actually seeming to be shining with contentment—and slipped away down the hall. Ana darted into the kitchen to tuck the leftovers into the fridge, and Leon automatically, instinctively took up a position leaning against a wall. With his arms folded over his chest and his face flat, he looked every bit the stoic giant Kurt knew—but a certain sort of deep tiredness was written in the creases of his face. 

Kurt glanced over at Jenna. "You want to call it a night?" He asked her in a low murmur. He himself was tired—and itching to crawl into the guest house bed. 

Jenna opened her mouth to answer, but Sonja interjected. " _No, no, you can't leave yet, Korach."_

Kurt looked at her, bewildered. 

She was sitting up straight, and her eyes were gleaming. She looked livelier than she had in a long time. A knowing smile played at her lips and she poked a finger at the both of them standing together in the entryway. " _I want to know your story. How you two lovebirds met."_ She shifted in her seat impatiently. 

"Not to be nosy," Ana said as she emerged from the kitchen—Leon immediately relaxed from his tense, almost defensive position up against the wall—and tossed her son a smile. "But I second that. Color me curious." 

Kurt and Jenna swapped looks. She grinned and gave his hand a squeeze. "Well, I work for a TV network down in San Francisco, editing shows and stuff, and one fateful day—" Kurt turned to press his lips to the top of her head and chuckled softly at her theatrics. "My boss called me into her office and told me to find some kind of security to protect our computers, and, lo and behold, half an hour later, I walked into X-Con's office—and into this computer whiz's life." 

Kurt smiled warmly down at her. "And how infinitely grateful and lucky I am that you did." 

Jenna grinned—color surged into her cheeks—and for a moment they just looked at each other, but then recalled their present company and snapped out of it and instead launched into further details, prompted by Sonja's inquisitive goading, winding a tale about Caleb and his nefariousness and how they had stopped it. 

"And she headbutted him," Kurt couldn't resist interjecting with a proud grin as Jenna talked about Caleb's "restaurant" and how she had wound up trapped in the basement of it.

Ana's eyebrows shot up. "You . . . headbutted bad guy who intended to kill you?" Her eyebrows creased with genuine concern.

"Yeah," Jenna said with a crooked grin. "It probably wasn't the smartest thing to have done, given that he had superpowers and all this tech stuff, but—I don't regret it. He deserved it. Asshole." Anger crept into her voice, but she caught herself and glanced sheepishly at Sonja, who only rocked her head back and looked at Jenna with a smirk.

Leon chuckled and spoke for the first time since they had started talking. He nodded approvingly at Jenna and uttered, in very thickly-accented English: "You are tough cookie." 

Kurt didn't miss the way she almost seemed to ignite at that—the way his brusque father's compliment lit her up with a bashful sort of pride, and the dorky grin that danced across her face made his heart flood with warmth. He interlaced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a squeeze. "Yes," he agreed with his father, looking at Jenna with a smile. "She is."

Anastasia sighed. "I am conflicted," she admitted. "Part of me wants to tell you that that was dangerous and reckless—though I am sure you already know that, and it is the mom part of me that says that—"

Jenna smiled sheepishly. 

"But other part knows that most important thing is that you are safe and well." She paused, and smiled mischievously. Mirth danced over her face. "And that same other part says that it is _good_ that you got to hit that _sukin syn_ in the face, and I am very glad for that."

Sonja glanced up at her daughter. " _Now it's you who needs to watch your language, Tasia,"_ she chastised—half-heartedly and amusedly. 

"There are no children around," Anastasia defended herself lightly, but laughed and leaned into Leon's side. He instinctively drew an arm around her shoulders. 

The brief lull of silence allowed Kurt and Jenna to wrap up their story—omitting a few minor details because his family most certainly did not need to know about their kissing session in the van—and by the time they had talked their way through the whole thing, Kurt found that his eyes felt about ten pounds heavier. Jenna was leaning on him with her head resting on his shoulder and occasionally lifted a hand to stifle a yawn. 

"Okay, it is good night for both of you," Anastasia said, smiling.

" _Wait,"_ Sonja said, sitting up, looking almost panicked—which was bewildering not only for Kurt but Anastasia as well. She beckoned for Kurt to come to her, and he obliged, reluctantly stepping away from Jenna and approaching his grandmother. She crooked a finger at him, so he bent over—and she grabbed his face in both her hands and looked at him. He blinked, befuddled and more than a little confused, not used to this level of contact with any of his family members—let alone his grandmother whose eyes had suddenly gone shiny. " _I am so happy for you, Korach,"_ she whispered, and smiled—then brought her forehead to rest against his. " _You live your life the way you want to live it,"_ she murmured urgently and harshly. " _And never forget to use your voice."_

Kurt only stood there awkwardly, uncertainly, as he nodded and mumbled back that he would—but then a thought chilled his heart and his spirit plummeted.

Maybe this was her saying goodbye. 

He closed his eyes. " _I love you, Babushka,"_ he murmured.

Sonja said nothing, and then pulled away, dropped her hands, and sank back into the armchair.

Kurt straightened and cleared his throat and felt the threat of tears sting at his eyes. He stepped away, back to Jenna, who immediately curled an arm around him. He leaned into her comforting embrace, but didn't take his eyes off of his grandmother.

She looked up at Anastasia, whose face had fallen somber. " _I wish I had more time,"_ she cursed dourly and shook her head. " _I wish I could have done this properly, with everyone, but—"_ She clicked her tongue. " _Wishing does no good. And I suppose today at the watering hole was good enough. It'll have to be. Can you fetch Alexander and Dima for me, Tasia?"_

Anastasia blinked, and the innocence in her confusion made Kurt's heart ache. " _What for? You will see them tomorrow."_

Whether purposefully or inadvertently, Anastasia was not acknowledging the truth—that there was a very real possibility that Sonja wouldn't be around tomorrow. 

Sonja kept quiet and looked steadily up at her daughter.

Leon gave Anastasia's shoulder the gentlest of squeezes. He bent to whisper in her ear. She gave a tiny perceptible nod. Leon withdrew and hobbled off into the hallway, presumably to fetch the men in question.

Anastasia put a hand on her mother's shoulder. Sonja reached up and grasped it, then looked at Kurt. " _You two should go to bed,"_ she said, and Kurt smiled upon hearing amusement in her voice and seeing her smile that crooked grin. " _You both look dead on your feet."_

Kurt nodded. 

Jenna hesitated, looking from her boyfriend's face to his grandmother's, then tentatively stepped forward. "It was nice meeting you, Sonja," she said earnestly, though a quiver hiccuped into her voice halfway through the sentence. 

Sonja smiled and nodded and said something.

Jenna looked at Kurt. Tears moistened his eyes and emotion thickened his voice as he translated. "'You too, Tough Cookie.'" 

Jenna inhaled shakily and squeezed Kurt's hand.

"Good night, _Babushka_ ," Kurt murmured.

" _Good night, Korach."_

With that—and a few more murmured good nights to his parents who may or may not have heard; Ana was standing by her mother, looking pale and disbelieving as if things had finally begun to sink in, and Leon emerged from the hallway behind a tired and grumpy Dima and a curious Andy—Kurt and Jenna took their leave, walking out of the Goreshter house and into the bitingly cold night in silence, rounding the building and crossing the field and entering the guest house quickly. 

There were no more words to be said. Rather, they tumbled into bed together and Kurt held Jenna close, seeking her warmth, her comfort, and finding it in spades. She held him to her, stroked his hair, kissed his forehead, and he curled his arms around her and nuzzled his face into her neck. Entangled like that, nestled under a blanket, they eventually both slipped into sleep.

* * *

A knock on the door shattered Kurt's rest and brought him swimming into consciousness. He blinked blearily, disentangled himself from his sleeping girlfriend, and slid out of bed. He hadn't bothered to change—his jeans felt stiff and uncomfortable, as did his shirt—but he didn't care. He tugged open the front door and saw Dima standing there, puffiness stemming from either lack of sleep or expressed emotion outlining his eyes. 

Kurt's heart sank like a stone. He knew what his brother was there for. 

And yet it still hurt when Dima opened his mouth and said, " _Babushka is gone."_


	12. Chapter 12

" _What?"_ Kurt repeated dully even though what Dima had just said came as no particular surprise and he had heard every single word of it—in fact, the words seemed to be ringing in his ears.

Dima swallowed and passed a hand through his short, spiky hair. He was shaken; it was jarring. " _Babushka is gone,"_ he repeated, and then his face contorted into a pained, twisted grimace. " _Mama woke up early this morning. Found her in the armchair."_

Kurt's stomach turned, and he remembered seeing his mother's face—so determined to cling onto positivity and hope and yet so innocent about the lack thereof at the same time—and felt his knees turned gelatinous. Thinking of her having been the one to discover Sonja— _blyad._ It was a horrible thought.

The brothers looked at each other for a moment, connected by their grief and concern for their mother, then Dima turned on his heel and headed briskly towards the house.

Kurt pulled in a deep breath of air, closed his eyes—and flashed back to his grandmother gently pressing her forehead against his, and his mother resting a concerned hand on Sonja's shoulder—and something like a whimper broke through his lips but he shook his head, opened his eyes, and quickly hustled after Dima.

(He left Jenna to sleep. They would talk once she woke up—and once everything was . . . sorted.)

" _Papa, Mama, Lana, and Alexander are the only ones inside,"_ Dima threw over his shoulder as they approached the front of the house. " _Everyone else is out back."_

Kurt nodded, though Dima couldn't see him. His heart was in his throat and his stomach sat inside of him like a stone. He trotted up the front steps and opened the front door and he and Dima stepped inside. 

His eyes were pulled first to the armchair, which sat empty, but then bounced up to Leon, who was pacing as well as he could manage and speaking roughly into the headset of the wall phone he had never been persuaded to upgrade from. His dark eyes were fixed on Anastasia, who was enshrouded in the same quilt Sonja had been using the nights prior—and trembling in her daughter's arms.

Lana sat embracing her mother on the couch, stroking her hair and murmuring quietly with the gentlest tenderness and affectation. Ana's face, resting on Lana's shoulder, was sallow and soaked with tears already shed. Her eyes were flat and listless. She turned her face into Lana's shoulder—and her trembling resumed. 

Andy stood running his hands helplessly through his hair, then spotted the boys and immediately crossed the room to join them. The situation had stricken all semblance of humor and lightheartedness out of his face. His eyes, like Ana's, were red and swollen. " _She got taken away about fifteen minutes ago. Leon's taking care of the whole thing—making arrangements and stuff."_ He brushed his trembling fingers through his hair again, then looked at Ana, then back at Kurt and Dima. " _Go see your mom. She really needs you right now_."

Neither brother needed further encouragement, but as they approached, Lana's head snapped up. She shot them a look. " _One at a time_ ," she mouthed. " _She's too overwhelmed for all of us right now."_

Kurt nodded and glanced at Dima, who simply said he would help their father and slipped away to assist Leon, who was getting more and more frustrated by the incompetency of whoever he was talking to. Dima was a good foil to Leon's anger—he somehow always knew what to say to cool him down and bring the volcanic eruption down to mere rumbles and grumbles.

Kurt turned away from them and instead moved to the couch. Lana rose slowly, gently pulling Ana with her—who moved immediately, as if caught in the push of a tide—and disentangled herself from her. Kurt opened his arms and instinctively Ana shuffled into them. 

Lana touched his arm and he looked at her. For a moment, there was none of that intense, bitter dislike that all-too-often cropped up when they were around each other—it was a simple moment of shared maturity, where all of the anger was set aside in lieu of being there, together, for their mother. " _I left my stuff at the hotel. I'm going to go get it and check out and come back here_."

Kurt nodded, then turned his attention back to his mother who was beginning to sob again. He felt the wetness of her tears, felt her body shaking almost violently, heard her little gasping cries and hitches of breath. 

It broke his heart. 

" _I am so sorry, Matushka,"_ he whispered hoarsely, then tucked his head on top of hers and fell silent because there were no more words that could be said—no more words to express just how sorry he was.

* * *

The funeral for Sonja Valyevna Goreshter was held a few days later at a small cemetery in Saint Petersburg. 

The day was chilly and brisk and the ground was littered with moist clumps of snow that had recently fallen but was deliberating on whether or not to stick. 

The Goreshter family clustered at the open grave in which the casket had been lowered, as a priest rattled the rites. Lana, Kurt, Dima, and Leon surrounded Anastasia, forming a sort of protective horseshoe. Nearby stood Andy, and next to him his daughters—Nadia was holding his left hand and Nadine his right. Ruslan, Ilia, and Felix bunched close to their mother. Jenna stood to the left of the Goreshters, a little ways from the family so as to give them privacy—her hands clasped before her and eyes angling between Kurt, Anastasia, and the ceremony.

Kurt stood surrounded by his family. His father was enveloping his mother in her arms. Dima and Lana stood to either side of him, silent and unmoving. 

" _She would have hated this_ ," Anastasia murmured.

Kurt stiffened and his heart sped up. That was the first full sentence his mother had spoken in days—beyond monosyllabic grunts. 

" _Why's that?"_ Leon bent to ask quietly into her ear.

" _Because it's taking so long."_ She uttered something that was a mix between a choked sob and a giggle. " _She probably would have unburied herself just so she could tell him to get the goddamn show on the goddamn road, never mind the blasphemies."_ Tears streamed from her eyes and she pressed her face against Leon's chest.

He rumbled—a chuckle? a noise of comfort? both?—and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

Kurt felt his spirits shift. Anastasia was talking—that was great. She was managing a range of emotion beyond the flat numbness she had been living in the past few days, punctured only by the most heart-wrenching of crying jags—wonderful. He reached out and touched her elbow and gave it a soft squeeze. 

She looked back at him and smiled for the first time in days. It was a watery, quivering smile—and a beautiful one. " _Thank you, Korach,"_ she whispered, then turned to her other children. She found Dima's hand and took it and squeezed. " _Thank you, Dima."_ She found Lana's hand and took hold of it. _"Thank you, Lana. I love you all so very much."_

_"I love you too, Matushka,"_ Kurt returned in a low murmur as Lana and Dima did, and Anastasia seemed to have received some strength from her children for she straightened and nodded at them and refocused back on the ceremony with a long, deep intake of breath. 

Kurt glanced over at Jenna. She was looking straight at the ground. He frowned, but then she looked up—her gaze roved—their eyes locked. Her eyebrows crinkled in concern. "Are you okay?" She mouthed.

Kurt considered, then glanced at his family—gathered and huddled together in their own little circle of love and support and comfort. "Yes," he mouthed right back at her. "I am." And he was beginning to believe that, in the long run, everything would be okay. 

They would all be okay. 

* * *

Another couple of days trickled by, and people gradually began to leave the Goreshter household—not out of want, but of necessity—and Ana insisted upon it. She didn't want anyone risking their jobs or relationships or any facet of their personal lives; they had all come out and spent quality time together, and that, to her, was the greatest gift of all, and one she would cherish forever. She was going to be fine—and she would be finer knowing that everyone could settle back into their lives.

Nadia was the first to leave. She had a business to run, and her boyfriend was playing an upcoming concert that she couldn't miss. She bid Anastasia a tender goodbye with a light kiss on the cheek, then tipped a salute at Kurt and Jenna, and told her nephews she'd see 'em at Christmas—and told her dad she would be checking in on him periodically before giving him a hug.

Nadine and the boys followed suit. Their goodbyes were long, disjointed, and scrambled. At the end, Nadine pressed something into Jenna's hand, tipped her a wink, playfully knuckled Kurt's shoulder, then whisked her boys—still clamoring loud "bye"'s—away. Jenna looked at what Nadine had given her and Kurt peered at it—and groaned exasperatedly (and dramatically, admittedly) to see that it was a picture of him in high school . . . complete with long, silky hair that dipped below his shoulders. Jenna grinned her delight and proclaimed that the picture was going on the mantle of photographs they had framed and displayed back home—and Kurt just laughed acquiescence. 

Andy was—reluctantly—next. He promised Anastasia that he would stay for as long as he needed her, but when she teased him that he had been there long enough for her and her nerves already, he beamed and swept her up into a long hug that lasted a few minutes. They murmured to each other, and he promised to call and text her, and she threatened to block his number if he sent her any more of those crappy chain-mail texts or outdated memes plucked from Facebook. He just laughed and then bid Leon a goodbye with a "au revoir, Hercules!" — to which Leon just grunted and rolled his eyes. 

Which left the "kids." 

Kurt knew he and Jenna needed to get back to San Francisco—his sick days were steadily running out, and he had already gotten a number of texts from Dave about the computer-assist orders he was racking up. Lana was getting antsier and constantly checking her phone and email—but also dramatically declaring that they could wait another few days, the business practically ran on her watch (which basically disintegrated all notion he had of her being "decent," as he had witnessed her being with his mother, and made him roll his eyes). Dima had brought case files with him, so sitting down on the couch and working on them didn't perturb him, but Kurt had caught a glimpse of a flyer amongst his paperwork (something about an upcoming lecture about the environment given by a Masina Niko; it struck Kurt as odd because his brother barely recycled) and the date was rolling closer and even the ever-patient Dima was beginning to stir. 

Nevertheless, on what was his next-to-last day in Russia, with his family, Kurt felt compelled to wander the walls of his old home and found himself facing the closed door of his childhood bedroom.

The door had been painted over, but if he squinted—which he did—he could still read the very faint trace of "KEEP OUT: THAT MEANS YOU, LANA" scratched into the wood. 

Kurt chuckled, shook his head, reached for the handle, and opened the door into his childhood. 


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt's amusement at his childhood scrawling on the door ebbed as he stepped over the threshold into what had once been his childhood bedroom and was now a guest room.

The bed was a queen, and perfectly-made. Nothing remarkable or unique set the room apart—it was all beige and white and gray, minimal furniture, no decor. 

Kurt could still see, however, in his mind's eye, the way the room had looked when he had been a kid. He had made the room his sanctuary—a safe place to go when he needed to escape Lana's taunting or Dima's snobbery. In his room, he could be alone. He could put a record on and lay flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed, drifting away in the notes of the music and imagining himself literally anywhere but where he was. As he stood there, a man closer to middle age than he was to adolescence, he could see his bed shoved up against the window because he liked pulling the curtains back at night and letting the moonlight flood into his room. He could see the nightstand stuffed with miscellaneous junk. He could see the old milk crates that had housed his records, his comics, and, eventually, his computer stuff. He smiled as he remembered upturning one of those milk crates and using it as a desk for the very first ancient computer he had ever gotten. He could see his dresser standing in the corner of the room next to the closet—both of them haphazardly stuffed with clothes (he didn't learn the importance of folding neatly and the tactics with which to avoid wrinkling until he was just entering high school). 

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he opened them and the room was once more a bland, empty space.

He crossed the room to the window and pulled the curtain back—and winced when he saw a thin white line, jagged like a lightning bolt, in the middle of the glass. He remembered the tip of the tree branch Lana had been carrying doing that—he remembered the way she had rattled it ominously against the glass and how he, already having had been spooked by his brother's tales of the Baba Yaga, had screamed. 

He scowled and pulled away from the window, letting the curtain swish back into place. He turned to the closet, pushed open the door, and saw nothing but darkness. 

He pulled away with an exasperated sigh, not really sure what he was doing beyond awakening memories he would have rather had stay asleep, but something flickered at the edge of his vision and he turned back. On the high shelf in the closet, tucked against the wall, was a cardboard box. 

Puzzled, Kurt reached for it and tugged it down.

It was coated in a thick layer of dust, and the sides were warped and caving in. He moved to the edge of the bed, sat down, plucked the top off and set it aside, and looked into more memories.

It was mostly pictures, but there were a few other odds-and-ends: the medal Dima had won from a spelling bee, the ceramic handprint Lana had made in art class, a very yellowed and very aged essay Kurt had written about his family (he skimmed through it and laughed because he had described Lana as a "galactic overlord" and Dima as her "henchman"), one of the pins Lana had made during her run for class presidency that said in very crammed letters "You know you wanna vote for Lana!", a carabiner loaded down with keychains (Dima had loved collecting them, once upon a time), and a little clay sculpture. Kurt pulled the sculpture delicately from the box. It was hard as a rock, missing an arm and half a leg, but the attempt at the coiffed hair and the jumpsuit made him chuckle. He was quite frankly amazed his little art project from twenty-something years ago had survived. It kind of touched him that his parents had kept his little Elvis statuette. 

Kurt set it aside—he was considering keeping it, but only if his mother would be willing to part with it—and fumbled through the pictures. 

His life flew by in a rustle of old Polaroids. It didn't take him long to find the baby pictures—first of Lana, looking particularly petulant and in the middle of a record-breaking tantrum; then of Dima, looking calm and inquisitive; then of him, looking frightened and confused. Next were the school pictures—Kurt wore a permanent grimace as he riffled through those. He quickly skipped past his acne-riddled, gangly self—and stumbled across the family photos. 

The first he saw was one of Leon, sitting in the armchair, head tipped back, looking years upon years younger, head and beard rich with black rather than gray. Tucked in the crook of one beefy arm was a baby, snoozing away, and Kurt flipped the picture over to see that the caption read—in his mother's familiar looping scrawl—" _Lev_ and Dima" accompanied by a little ink heart. 

The next one was of Anastasia, with her hair thrown up and pinned behind a bandana, bouncing a gleeful, delighted baby on her knee. The back proclaimed that baby to be Lana.

Kurt couldn't help but marvel. It was so weird, traveling back in time like this—

And then he flipped over another picture and saw Lana and Dima, both (relatively) young, staring with interest at the swaddled baby tucked in Anastasia's arms. 

_"You wanna know what we were thinking then?"_

He flinched. He hadn't noticed Lana come in. He looked up and saw her standing right by the bed. She'd always had a way of doing that, he realized—of sneaking around and being impossibly stealthy. No wonder he had felt the need to watch his back all the time when he was a kid. Instead of answering her, he just raised a single eyebrow. 

"' _Can't wait to make this kid's life a living hell._ '" 

He knew she was joking. " _Yes, well, you succeeded,"_ he grumbled anyways. 

Lana rolled her eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed. " _C'mon, Korach. It wasn't that bad._ " She reached over and plucked out a photo at random. " _Look. You look pretty happy in this one."_

Kurt glanced at it. In it, a young version of himself was sitting at the kitchen table before a cake and looking excited as Leon reached out to ignite the candles. " _It was my birthday,"_ he said dryly, not giving her a single pinch of leeway. " _Lots of children are happy on their birthdays. And, if I recall correctly, that picture was taken seconds before you crept up and mashed my face in the cake."_

_"It's tradition!"_ Lana scoffed defensively.

" _I was sneezing out sprinkles for weeks,"_ Kurt retorted. 

A knock came. Both Kurt and Lana looked up. Dima stood in the doorway and asked what they were squabbling about. 

" _Just taking a trip down Memory Lane,"_ Lana said. She beckoned for him to join them. 

Reluctantly, he slid into the room and sidled over to the bed and dropped himself down onto it, on Kurt's other side. 

" _Korach here thinks his life sucked,"_ Lana announced dramatically. 

Kurt glared at her. " _That is not what I said, and I do not think that! I know I am lucky to have lived life that I have—"_

Dima shook his head. " _I know what she means, though. We were . . . not exactly kind to you, Korach."_ He paused, and shook his head irritably, as if getting rid of an old habit. " _Kurt. Sorry."_

Kurt stared at his older brother, bewildered by his display of genuine sincerity and consideration. 

" _Speak for yourself,"_ Lana muttered. 

Kurt rolled his eyes and kept pawing through photos until one caught his eye. He pulled it out. It was a snapshot of Anastasia standing with another man—an older man with thinning hair, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and overalls tucked into very big rubber boots. " _Who's this?"_

_"Grandpa Ivan,"_ Dima said instantly and Lana and Kurt turned to look at him. 

The name rang a bell in Kurt's head. Ivan—his grandfather. Who had once been Sonja's "wonderful," as she had so eloquently put it. And then he had died—from what, Kurt didn't know, but what he did know was that whatever was beyond this current life—surely they had to be together in it again.

It was a whimsically optimistic, hopeful thought, but Kurt embraced it.

" _You ever meet him_?" Lana asked. 

Dima nodded. " _Once. Long time ago."_ He didn't elaborate. 

Kurt and Lana exchanged looks. Better to let him cherish what treasured memory he had. 

The siblings fell into silence as they resumed thumbing through photographs. Lana occasionally aimed a snarky comment or two at one of her brothers, but that was the extent of the commentary as they filed through prom pictures (Dima hadn't gone, Kurt had gone stag with a group of friends, and Lana had treated it like the highest honor and dressed beyond the nines) and childhood development pictures (Dima cracked a laugh when he stumbled across a picture of him refusing to eat peas and wearing the most disgusted, snooty expression on his tiny, chubby face) and pictures with their parents (Lana snagged a photo of her and Leon to keep) and a smorgasbord of everything in between.

They got lost in nostalgia and remembrance, and none of the siblings—breaking their silence to occasionally laugh at a photo of one of the others or rebuke something another one had said or recount shuffled memories—noticed their mother standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

Nor did they notice when their father slipped up behind her and hugged her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Anastasia leaned back against her husband's broad chest and uttered a soft sigh of wonder and happiness. " _Look at them, lev. We did good._ " 

" _Real good_ ," Leon agreed, dropping a kiss on top of her head before proceeding to watch his children get along—TRULY get along—for the first time in a very, very, very long time. 


	14. Chapter 14

It was during moments like these that Kurt wished the guest house had a door that he could yank open and slam shut satisfactorily, but he had to settle for tugging it back on its track, stepping inside, and shoving it shut. "I give up," he declared to Jenna sitting on the bed and packing her suitcase. 

She looked up, took note of his flushed face and the way his hands kept twisting around one another restlessly and tugging and twirling at his rings, and raised an eyebrow. "On what? You okay, Kurt?" She had been doing her best to stay on the periphery of things as of late, just to give him and his family some space and privacy, and he appreciated her graciousness endlessly and infinitely, but right now—right now he needed Jenna time. 

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head. "It is . . . Lana. She just—" He inhaled deeply. "We were looking at pictures. Old memories. And it was fine." Surprisingly enough, it had been, and the Goreshter siblings had all been relatively civil to one another—which was surely some kind of landmark stepping stone in their relationship. 

"But?" Jenna asked gently. She shoved her suitcase onto the middle of the bed, out of the way, and patted the now-empty space next to her. He crossed the room and dropped down onto it. 

"But I found photo from Halloween—specific Halloween where she and Dima teamed up to scare me." Kurt remembered the wickedly delighted grin that had spread across her face—as if she was reliving a fond memory. "And it was in her treating it like it was nothing that finally made me realize that she will never understand what she—and Dima—did to me that night." She would never understand that he had lived in fear for months after that—that, even though Lana and Dima had told him it was just a prank, laying alone in his bed at night terrified him to the point where he dragged his blankets and a pillow out in the living room where he could lay on the couch, away from all of the windows, huddled up in the safe warm glow of a lamp. She would never understand that the shriek he had let out—the tears he had inevitably burst into—those had come from a place of deep, _deep_ fear, and had followed him into the nightmares that had plagued him for weeks on end (usually of the macabrely-grotesque-and-wrinkled-and-decaying Baba Yaga slicing him up with a knife and fork variety). She would never understand that he had bottled his fear, swallowed it, let it fester, because he could turn to no one—not his father, who would grunt at him to "get over it," or his mother, who had often been too busy flitting around the kitchen and fulfilling orders to truly listen, or his siblings who, in the wake of that one night, he had hated. 

She would never understand that he had only been a boy of five, forced to confront the very-possible-and-plausible-and-probable end of his short life (in his mind, anyways) and in a very gruesome manner. 

"Lana is decent person," Kurt admitted begrudgingly. He remembered seeing her with their mother—hell, he remembered seeing pictures of the two of them, memories he couldn't recall but she did, proof that they had once gotten along swimmingly. It was glaringly obvious that something had fractured in their relationship, and he wasn't sure if it was possible—or even worth it—to even attempt to repair it. "Sometimes," he amended. He had gotten upset about Lana laughing about the prank, and she, in turn, had just rolled her eyes, scoffed, and said that even as a grown-ass man, he was still _such_ a baby. That had been the final straw—upon hearing that little remark, he had up and left. 

He relayed it all to Jenna, who sat there listening intently.

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it is something stupid to be upset about," he said uncertainly.

"Nope," Jenna said immediately. "No, it most definitely isn't. It's something that fucked you up for a long time, and—like you said—she still doesn't get that." She put a hand over his and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. "And I think that, as long as she doesn't understand how much that affected you, there's always going to be this kind of . . . disconnect between you guys." 

Kurt nodded, head still bowed. "I tried," he said softly after a moment. 

She squeezed his hand again. "I know, baby. And I'm so proud of you for that. And you should be, too. Because coming back here, facing all of this shit—it isn't easy. And you absolutely kicked ass doing it." 

Kurt glanced at her and managed a soft smile. "Thank you, _soyka_. I just do not know if it is worth time or energy trying to patch things up with her, because . . . it just seems impossible. Dima, maybe—I think he has grown up some. I think we both have. And not to say Lana has not, but—" He cut himself off and shook his head frustratedly. "I think we have all just grown up in separate ways, and our ways just do not . . . mesh. If that makes sense."

"It does. And, unfortunately, there's nothing you can really do about it. You tried, Kurt. And so did she, I'm sure—in her own Lana kind of way. It just didn't work out. These things happen." Her voice grew heavy with sadness. "People are like seasons, you know—they're temporary. They come and go. And family isn't necessarily excluded from that."

He nodded and exhaled slowly, then leaned over to rest his head on her shoulder. She slid her hand up from his and ran it through his hair, stroking her fingers through it and rubbing them against his scalp and making him hum. "Let's talk about something nicer," he mumbled. "Just for moment. Please."

"Sure." Jenna continued combing her fingers through his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. "How about . . . we're going to be home in less than twenty-four hours?"

"Mm." Kurt grunted delightedly. "Keep going."

She grinned, and though he didn't see it, he could hear it in her voice. "How about you being able to go back to work with your best friends? Who probably miss you a whole lot and who, honestly, have probably gotten themselves into a fuckton of trouble while you were gone because you're their impulse control and also kind of their unofficial dad?" 

He chuckled and turned his head to press his lips against her shoulder. "I miss them, too," he admitted. 

She hummed. "And how about all the lovely next steps we have in our future?"

Kurt pulled his head off of her shoulder and smiled. "I am very much looking forward to those." Then his smile turned crooked—roguish, almost. "And do not worry about the immediate next step. I have it covered." He'd already begun to devise a plan. Their anniversary was coming up, after all . . . 

"I'll take your word for it," she said with an eager little grin and color rising in her cheeks and he chuckled and looked at her and thought about how smitten he was and how much he loved her—

That reminded him of something important.

His smile fell.

She frowned. "You okay?" 

He nodded. "Yes." He looked at her solemnly. "I just—I want to thank you, Jenna." He took her hands in his. "For coming with me. And for all your support. It made this whole experience that much easier to—to cope with. And it also helped me see that there was some of it that I enjoyed, too. And that 'family' is complicated thing. So is 'home.'" He chuckled. "Because I do love my parents. My siblings are . . . little bit trickier, but there is no law saying I have to feel certain way about them. But 'family' is also Dave and Scott and Luis. And, in weird way, Hank and Janet. And Hope." He intertwined their fingers together. "And San Francisco is home. But you, Jenna Leigh—you are . . . both, and more. So much more. I love you." 

Jenna's eyes grew round and shiny and she quickly disentangled one of her hands from his to swipe at them.

Bewildered, concerned, Kurt frowned. "I did not mean to make you cry—"

"No, no, no, it's not a negative thing," she reassured him, smiling so softly and sweetly it made his heart ache. "It's just—that's the sweetest thing ever, and—I love you, so much, and—dammit!" She wiped at her eyes again, though her light laugh assured him everything was fine. "You're all of that and more for me, too, Kurt, I hope you know that, and that's why I'm here for you," she said, looking at him earnestly. "Well, also because I want to be here to support you, of course, but—you know what I mean."

"I do," he said, and leaned forward to kiss her, his eyes fluttering shut. 

She leaned into the kiss, but it quickly slipped into an embrace. Their lips broke, and he rested his head on her shoulder once more, and looped his arms around her, holding her close. She drew her arms around him, stroking at his back, and dropped a kiss to the top of his head.

The silence that followed was warm, and cozy, and comfortable, and full of love.

Until Kurt remembered something.

"Our flight leaves in hour and a half."

* * *

Anastasia and Leon insisted on accompanying Kurt and Jenna to the airport—well, Anastasia insisted, Leon just tagged along. 

And Lana and Dima came with them. 

(Lana was leaving day after next—she wanted to go shopping and to take Ana with her—and Dima the next day.) 

They all stuffed into Leon's old car which was, by a complete and utter miracle, still running. The drive was awkward—Leon was silent, as usual, and Dima was following in his wake; Anastasia was chattering about a new recipe she wanted to try and how she would miss her taste tester dearly (which made Jenna grin with a goofy sort of pride and promise that, so long as Ana kept baking, she would always be available as her taste tester); and the tension rippling between Kurt and Lana was stiff and uncomfortable. 

By the time they got to the airport, Kurt was dying to get out of the car and stretch his legs—and get away from Lana, who had managed to drive her elbow right into a soft spot in his side with every single sharp turn Leon took, and when he glared at her, she only blinked innocently back at him. 

They all filed out, and Leon whipped their luggage out of the rear of the vehicle with ease—and a loud grunt. 

It was still silent as they shuffled into the airport—but then came time for the final goodbyes.

Kurt stood looking at his teary-eyed mother and his stoic father and realized, with a pang, that he was going to miss them. 

A lot. 

He went to hug Anastasia, but she beat him to the punch and embraced him.

Hard. 

" _I love you, Korach,"_ she whispered fiercely in his ear. 

He closed his eyes and hugged his mom. 

" _So much. Thank you for coming out here."_ She finally pulled away, but dropped her hands to his shoulders and looked at him. " _Really. Thank you. It means the world to me that you could be here—all of you."_ Her gaze swept around the little ring of people, then returned to Kurt. _"You should have my number by now. Please—call or text me. And have a safe flight."_ She couldn't resist reaching up and ruffling his hair. He chuckled and halfheartedly attempted to duck away. She smiled and touched his cheek. Her eyes grew moister. " _You haven't left yet, but I already miss you."_

Kurt chuckled and lifted a hand to fold his fingers over his mother's. " _I will keep in touch,"_ he promised her. " _And thank you, Mom. For—for everything."_

Anastasia smiled at her son and gave his shoulders a squeeze. " _I am so proud of you,"_ she said.

His heart swelled at that, and he instinctively bent to kiss her cheek. 

She chuckled and released him, nodding—then turning to Jenna. 

Kurt watched them embrace, watched her whisper something in Jenna's ear that made his girlfriend get teary-eyed—and then his dad was approaching.

They stared at each other for a moment. 

Leon lurched forward and pulled his son into a firm embrace.

And this time, rather than just awkwardly standing there and not knowing what to do, Kurt returned it and hugged his father.

Neither of them said anything, but they didn't really need to—the hug spoke for the both of them.

Leon was the first to pull away. He looked at Kurt for a moment, then nodded brusquely and clapped his shoulder.

Kurt grinned—now that was all-too-familiar. 

Leon turned to Jenna and smiled. "Tough cookie!" He said, opening his arms, and Kurt's smile softened and warmed as Jenna's own face lit up with delight and they hugged. 

Now it was Dima's turn to say goodbye. He approached Kurt and they stared at each other a little tentatively, neither really knowing where they stood with the other. But then Dima's hand shot out, and he offered something of a crooked smile. _"Best of luck with X-Con,"_ he said—earnestly.

Kurt chuckled. " _Thanks."_ He took his brother's hand and gave it a couple of firm pumps, then dropped it.

Dima nodded, then turned to Jenna and shook her hand—and shuffled backwards a few steps, withdrew the book he had tucked under his arm and read on the car ride there, and resumed thumbing through it again.

Kurt laughed. Some things never changed. 

A touch on his shoulder drew his attention away from his brother, and he looked at Lana—his smile dropping. He stared at her with flat, uninterested eyes, but then she surprised him by doing something he would've never believed would have ever happened in a million years: pulled him in for a hug. 

He stood there awkwardly, really not knowing what to do with himself, but then she upped the ante by muttering a low " _I'm sorry, Kurt"_ and completely flabbergasting him.

When she pulled away, he looked at her face, searching for some sign, any kind of manipulation there—but he just saw sincerity. 

It was absolutely, positively bewildering.

But then Lana turned to Jenna, and Kurt could see the awkward tenseness in her shoulders. 

Lana swept her into a hug too—surprising the both of them—and whispered something in her ear. Jenna, stunned, only nodded, and returned the hug just a few seconds before it broke.

Lana stepped away, looked at them both, nodded brusquely—then flipped her hair and smirked and Kurt knew The Queen Bee was back. 

Still—an apology, followed by her respecting his wish to go by Kurt—

That was certainly . . . something. 

Soon enough, the goodbyes were finished, and Anastasia, Leon, Dima, and Lana grouped together as Kurt and Jenna split off and began to wheel their luggage—and hustle themselves—away. 

Kurt glanced over his shoulder as they walked and saw his mother waving at him, his father watching after him with something of a smile on his stony face, his brother's nose hidden in a book as it tended to be, and his sister alternating between checking her phone and scoping the people in the airport out. 

And that, sure enough, was his family. 

* * *

They boarded the plane, stowed what overhead luggage they had in the bins above the seats, sat down, buckled up, and held hands.

Jenna looked at Kurt, who had the window seat. "How're you feeling, babe?" She squeezed his hand.

Kurt glanced out the window and thought about his family in the airport, having stayed long enough to watch him pass through security. He thought about Vladivostok, and the little tiny hideaway his parents lived in, and the odds-and-ends thrift shop he had liked to frequent when he was younger because it truly had been a haven for him, and his childhood bedroom.

He also thought about San Francisco. Jenna's apartment. X-Con. Dave. Luis. Scott. The rest of the gang. 

Jenna.

He looked at her, and smiled, and returned her squeeze. 

"I am ready to go home." 


End file.
